


Forever Sometimes Means Never

by RockinHeaven



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Psychological Trauma, Teen Angst, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-01-31 05:15:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 53,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18584512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockinHeaven/pseuds/RockinHeaven
Summary: **SPOILER ALERT ENDGAME****Seriously, do NOT read if you haven't seen Endgame!!**One moment he is gone, the next Peter finds himself back, alive. After their last stand, after Thanos is defeated for good, Peter tries to go back to life how it was before the Snap, before five years of his life became nonexistent.At night, he is plagued by dreams of death, while at day he struggles to come to term with his new life. Trapped in doubt whether or not this is reality or a dream, Peter needs help to overcome the past and live in the future.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After seeing Avengers:Endgame, I was more than a little bummed at the ending and how things were wrapped up. I decided to disregard everything that happened after a certain point and write the end I think Tony deserved. Also am a sucker for a Peter Parker/Tony Stark father-son-relationship, so here we are (again).

# 1

 

It feels so real, the smell of smoke in the air, the blood and tears and sweat. His head will hurt, his body too from where he was pushed aside. And then he hears the Snap, feels a shockwave go through his body and around him everyone turns to dust. Not everyone, all of the bad guys though. And then he will hear frantic calls and see Mr Stark propped up against the rubble, his skin burnt and blackened, face ashen.

“Mr Stark,” he calls and his voice echoes loudly. He runs, body straining, muscles burning. Tonight, he reaches his mentor on time, falls on his knees and makes a grab for him. He hears himself garble something frantically, but he cannot discern the words. Until he is pushed away by Pepper, and she grabs Mr Stark’s hand and tells him it’s okay. No, it’s not okay. It’s never okay.

Peter screams as he sees the light vanish from Mr Stark’s eyes, as he sees how his body goes slack. He screams and screams and screams at his own pain. Feeling as if he is shattering from the inside.

And it’s always those screams that wake him up, night after night.

*

Peter lies awake, his body drenched in sweat. He feels the phantom pain of the injuries he got while fighting against Thanos. His breath is coming in short gasps, his nose is filled with the smell of battle. But it was only a dream, it wasn’t true.

Turning on his side, he grabs his phone from the bedside table. It’s 3:47am, still a few more hours before school. After unlocking the phone, Peter scrolls through his text messages. Nothing new; a text from Ned last night about physics homework; a text from Aunt May to pick up milk on the way home. And there, from two days ago, a voice message. Peter holds the phone for a moment, fingers poised. He is itching to write something, just a line, a “hello, how are you doing?”, but he doesn’t. It’s the middle of the night after all and the man needs his sleep. Instead, he hits the voice message button and listens to the short message.

“Hey Kid, just wondering if you and your aunt want to drop by for some barbecue action on Saturday. Send me a message. A simple yes or no will do.”

The voice alone is a comfort to him, and Peter hits the replay button again and again, until he has convinced himself that this is reality.

*

After everything that’s happened, school isn’t the same anymore. Peter goes, diligently, every day. He does his homework, he goes to decathlon, hangs with his friends. Everything he does these days is a task for him, one that has to be completed whether he enjoys it or not. On some days when Peter gets up, he feels really empty, the nightmares take their tolls on him, robbing him of sleep. But also mentally and emotionally. He never dreams the same, it’s always a different dream, but it always ends the same way: death.

“Are you okay?” Ned sounds concerned as he steps up to his locker. Peter tries to find the right textbooks for today’s classes, for some reason his hands are shaking. It’s a good thing, Ned can’t see them, or his worry would only get worse. He doesn’t want to worry his best friend, doesn’t want to worry anyone really. He just wants to get back to normal, and normal means to life before Thanos.

“Yeah, just nervous about the Spanish quiz is all.” A little white lie, one of many he keeps telling himself daily.

“Dude, if you’re worried about Spanish, then I have to be even more worried! You will ace this, trust me.”

Peter puts on a brittle smile, one that seems genuine enough to placate Ned, and closes his locker, textbooks in hand.

“Hey, do you want to come over tonight? I just bought this massive new Lego set with…”

They walk down the hallway together, Peter nodding politely to whatever Ned is saying. From the corner of his eye he watches the other students. They all look so carefree, chatting, texting on their phones, going to class. How can all of them act as if the last five years never happened? How can all of them act as if everything was back to normal?

*

“Aunt May? I’m home!” his voice sounds cheerful, even when deep inside Peter just feels cold. His hands would start shaking throughout the day and he had trouble keeping anyone from seeing it. He still wasn’t the most popular guy at Midtown High, not that he cared about these things anymore. Flash and his teasing didn’t even register anymore. Still, he didn’t want to garner any attention from his peers.

“Peter? Dinner will be ready in five!” Aunt May calls from the kitchen where she seems to be preparing some kind of meal. Peter doesn’t care anymore that his aunt tries out new recipes and frequently burns them or uses too much salt or undercooks them.

Dropping his backpack by his door, he shuffles into the kitchen.

“Hey,” he greets weakly. Aunt May is busy cutting some kind of herb, a pot next to her bubbles with a brownish sauce.

“Hey there. How was school today?”

“Fine.”

Peter moves around the counter and gives his aunt a sideways hug, she drops the knife momentarily and pats his arm. It only lasts for a short moment, but these few seconds are the highlight of Peter’s day. The familiar smell of his aunt’s body, that feeling of home she exudes…it’s one more thing grounding Peter in this reality. Of letting him know that this is not a dream but the truth.

“Can you set the table? I just need to finish chopping this.” A look of concentration passes her face as she keeps moving the knife rhythmically. Wordlessly, Peter starts to set the table. Their new apartment is smaller than the old one, the kitchen is closed off from the living room and kind of crammed. Instead of a table that could seat at least four, they now have one that can only seat two. It’s the same in the living-room, a smaller sofa, a smaller TV. May had trouble finding work after five years and money was tight at the moment. Hence her take on cooking once more, getting takeout was out of the question. Peter was fine with the new apartment, his room was a little smaller then the one he had had in their apartment before Germany, there was space for a bed, a desk and a few shelves. Not that he had much stuff anymore. After the Snap most of their belongings were just gone and it took a tremendous amount of paperwork to get help from the state to pay for the bare necessities.

But it was fine. They would manage once more. As soon as May’s first salary came in, things would be better.

“Anything good happen today?” Aunt May sets a plate of pasta covered in the brown sauce in front of him, before setting down her own plate and taking a seat.

“We had a Spanish quiz, and I got my Math test back.”

“And?” her tone is light, probing.

“An A.”

“I’m proud of you Peter! Well done!” Her smile is open, genuine and Peter tries to match his own, but it’s a struggle. They eat in silence for some time, May clearly occupied by the stack of letters on the counter that is yet unopened. Probably more forms she will have to fill out from the government. The hardest had been to revoke their death certificate. How could you proof you were not dead when most of your belonging were gone? Without any real identification?

Peter tries to gather his courage and ask her about the barbecue. They just bought a car, but with gas being expensive, Peter just doesn’t know if they can even afford driving to the barbecue. Even when he really, really wants to go.

“Uhm…there is something I want to ask you.” His voice sounds as insecure as he feels, and Peter doesn’t dare look up from his plate. When did he nearly finish his dinner?

“What is it?”

“Are we, I mean, are you free during the weekend? There is this barbecue, and I was wondering…” Peter trails off, unsure.

“A barbecue? That sounds nice, who-“ the shrill ring of May’s phone interrupts her answer. She throws an apologetic smile at Peter and grabs her phone from the counter.

“Yes, this is May Parker. Yes. Yes,” she leaves the kitchen; however, Peter can still hear her voice from the adjoining living room. “Yes, yes, I understand. I will be there in twenty minutes. Yes.”

Aunt May’s steps sound heavy as she comes back into the kitchen, a worried frown now on her face. “I have to leave for work, bud. Do you mind cleaning up? I’m okay with that barbecue, just tell me when and where, okay? And no staying up too late!”

“Okay,” is all Peter can get in before May hurries off to get changed into her nurses’ uniform.

*

He doesn’t mind doing the dishes, doesn’t mind putting away the leftovers for tomorrow, or throwing those away from their plates that they won’t finish tonight.

After cleaning up, Peter changes into his pyjamas, ready to tackle homework and go to bed. He made up an excuse not to go to Ned’s house tonight, but maybe tomorrow he will force himself to go. It’s what he would have done before the Snap, it’s something a normal teenager would do. Except Peter doesn’t feel normal anymore, and it’s got nothing to do with Spider-Man. No, his suit was safely stored away at the top of his wardrobe. Out of sight, out of mind.

It’s not much homework he has to do, his grades are even better than before. He pays more attention in class, writes down everything he can and studies in the evening. Peter was good in school before, but now his grades are up so much, he will have no trouble getting into MIT. Probably on a scholarship as well if he keeps up the good work for the next two years.

His phone starts vibrating and Peter finishes the equation before picking up.

“Peter? I’m so sorry, but it looks like I have to stay the night at the hospital. Will you be alright on your own?”

“Yeah, I will be fine.”

“Don’t forget to lock the front door. Have good day at school tomorrow, love you!”

Peter replies with a “love you” of his own and hangs up.

Instead of returning to his homework, he scrolls through his messages. Ned had sent a few pictures of the Lego set, they wanted to build together tomorrow. Before, excitement would have made him giddy, now however Peter felt dread bubble up inside him. It was fine, he tried telling himself, spending time with friends and having fun was fine. Scrolling a little more, he finds the voice message, his thumb hovering over the replay button. He wants to, he really wants to listen to it, but he has to get back to homework. Getting good grades means getting into a good college, a good college means a bright future. And the future was what he should be keeping in mind now.

Peter stares at the screen for a moment and types a simple “yes”.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

The rest of the week goes by in a blur.

Peter gets another A in his Spanish quiz, he builds a Y-Wing Starfighter with Ned, practices for Decathlon and does his homework, all the while helping Aunt May around the household. At night the bad dreams return, waking him drenched in sweat and gasping for air. The shaking in his hands happens more often now and he tries hiding them in the pockets of his hoodies or jeans.

On Saturday he does a grocery shop with Aunt May, trying to find some fresh produce to make a salad for the barbecue. One can still see the effect the Snap had on New York; the streets are littered with rubbish, graffiti sprayed on walls and the pavement. The city is working on it, but it will take longer than a few weeks to get it done. Crime is high with so many people returning without apartments to live in or jobs to earn money.

At the new apartment, Peter watches May prepare the salad for tomorrow. For a moment he is tempted to ask if he could be of any help, but then he feels the first tremor in his hand and quickly shoves it in his pocket.

Aunt May hums while she cleans and then cuts the vegetables, a small smile on her lips.

Deep inside right before that big emptiness, Peter feels a little stab. How can his Aunt be happy so quickly after what happened to them? Five years. They lost five years and she seems to just carry on. Peter doesn’t know if what he is feeling is jealousy, or envy, or some other ugly emotion. Shouldn’t he be happy that Aunt May was happy?

At one point it gets too much for him. “Uhm, do you need me here or can I go to my room and do some homework?” Another white lie. The homework for the weekend is done, the homework for next week prepared.

“Of course, sweetie,” Aunt May smiles at him and before Peter could feel bad about lying, he gives a weak smile and flees to his room.

*

In his room the few belongings he has, seem to be mocking him.

A book about Marie Curie and the development of x-ray, a piece of alien rubble from their final battle he found in his suit, and there the photo of him and Mr Stark. They are both smiling broadly, both holding up an end of the Stark Internship Certificate. Peter stares at the photograph, not for the first time wondering who that person is. They both look so happy, so content. But that was before. All good things were _before_. To think that they had made the Stark Internship up to disguise him being Spider-Man…and then Mr Stark had actually gifted him with a certificate to show off. Something he could use when he applied at MIT. Would he be proud of him?

What would old Peter have said to his plans? University had seemed so far away back then, now it seemed to be coming ever closer.

Peter feels trapped in this future, as if he had gone to bed one night and woken up the next morning and a whole lifetime had passed. It was one of his greater fears nowadays, that and the death of his friends and family, and the possibility of this not being reality. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t true, that everything was false, an illusion of some sort. Doctor Strange had been able to do magic, therefore wouldn’t it be possible to trap someone in an illusion?

His head started to hurt from his thoughts, his hands were still shaking. Peter decides to try and get some sleep before tomorrow.

*

“Spare him,” Doctor Strange’s deep voice fills his mind.

Thanos smiles, ready to give out the killing blow. Mr Stark is already bleeding, is already bruised and beaten up. Peter stands there in his new suit; the suit Mr Stark had given him as he had clung to that spaceship. He had told him to go home, but Peter hadn’t listened, had wanted to follow the man. They had saved Doctor Strange from that alien Mr Stark had dubbed “Squidward”, had fought against the Guardians until realising they were on the same side. And then Thanos had come, appearing out of nowhere.

Peter had lied to himself back then, he was courageous, he would stop the inevitable. When deep, deep inside he had been scared. In this dream, Peter is mute and unable to move. He can only watch as Mr Stark is stabbed, could only watch as Doctor Strange handed over the Time Stone. Thanos vanished and left them hurt and defeated. He wants to go, to run to Mr Stark but he is stuck. His feet won’t move and when Peter looks down, they are turning into ashes.

“No!” he screams, or at least his mouth was forming the word. There is no sound besides Doctor Strange and Mr Stark talking. They didn’t see him, they didn’t hear him.

*

Peter hits his arm on the nightstand, the shallow pain waking him up.

He lies there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. It’s still dark outside; the street lights are turned off now, there is not enough electricity to leave them on during the night. Another factor that has made crime rise in the neighbourhood.

Tonight, the streets seem to be quiet outside, now screams of help from people that are robbed or stabbed. First thing Aunt May had done was another lock on the doorway. Not that the old door couldn’t easily be kicked in.

Rubbing his eyes, Peter sits up. It’s 4:12am, a new record. He gathers the blanket around his shoulders, pulls his legs up underneath and makes himself as small as he can. These days it’s easier for him after a nightmare when his hands can touch the rest of his body, when they can feel that he is still there and not turning into dust.

At school kids had talked about it a lot, how it had felt for them, how some of them hadn’t felt anything at all, they had just blacked out and come back. Flash had made up a story, about him still parking his father’s sportscar when he had no feet and only his arms left. Peter hadn’t believed a word of it, most likely Flash had pissed himself in fear. Or simply blacked out. Apparently, the disintegrating had happened really fast for normal people. That was just it, wasn’t it? Peter isn’t normal, had never been and now he felt even less normal.

Peter sits in bed, trying not to think about anything at all until it was starting to get light outside. Then he ventures out of bed and into the shower, getting ready for the day ahead.

*

“The weather is great today for a barbecue,” May comments, eyes turned on the road. The roads are bumpy leading upstate, another thing the state will have to take care of now that all the people are back.

Peter holds the salad bowl in his head, exerting just a tiny bit of pressure so May doesn’t see the shaking of his hands.

“Hey, Peter,” she throws him a sideways look. “Don’t be nervous today, okay? Just enjoy yourself sweetie.”

“O-Okay.” That stupid stutter comes back now and then as well. Peter thought it had gone, but here he is, stuttering again. It’s as if all the old insecurities come crawling back and he doesn’t know how to deal with them.

May keeps driving, the radio turned on lowly, some kind of pop song is playing. The trees on the side of the road become denser, until they enter the forest for good. From there on it doesn’t take long to reach the lake and the Stark family home. A few cars are already parked outside, and Peter starts to get really nervous. He doesn’t even know who else is coming.

“Alright, let me get out first and I will get that salad of your lap so you can get out.” May gets out and comes to his side, opening the door and taking the salad bowl from his lap.

Together they walk around the house where the other guest are already mingling around a long table.

“Pete!” Before Peter can do anything, his leg is hugged in a bone crushing hug. When he looks down, he sees Morgan clutching his leg.

“Hey there Morgan.” The little girl looks up at him, a look of adoration on her face. The two of them got very close during his stay in the hospital, when Pepper and her had been there every day of his recovery. It’s Pepper who comes next, hugging Peter tightly.

“It’s so good to see you Peter. Morgan wouldn’t talk of anything else once she knew you would come!” Pepper wears a broad smile on her face and then hugs Aunt May. “How are you doing May?”

“Fine, thanks for inviting us. I brought a salad,” she holds up the salad bowl proudly.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have!” Pepper takes the bowl from her and then shoots Morgan a look. “You need to let go of Peter at some point, I’m sure Peter will have time to play with you later, alright?”

“Yes mummy!” Clenching her little arms around his leg once more, Morgan reluctantly lets go. “Come play with me Auntie May.”

Making a grab for Aunt May’s hand, Morgan starts pulling her away towards the lake were a small playhouse is stood.

“Why don’t you go inside? He’s waiting for you.” Pepper’s smile has lessened, she tries to look encouraging, but seems to be failing.

*

His feet feel heavy as he walks towards the house. That feeling of nervousness and dread gets stronger inside him. There is a lump forming in his throat, one Peter is sure will be hard to dislodge. The doors are open and there is no avoiding it any more. Peter steps inside the house, the family home full of happy pictures and memories.

“Hey there kid.”

His head whips around to the man standing in the doorway, shoulder leaning against the wood casually.

“H-hey.” That damn stutter.

“You alright? How’s school?”

“Good.”

“Must be hard. Adjusting to, well, to this after everything.” Peter swallows around the lump in his throat. The man is right; it’s as if he knows what Peter is going through. And maybe he does.

“Well, I better get outside. He’s in there.”

“Y-Yeah. Okay. Thanks, uhm, Ca-“ Before he can even so much as finish the word, he is interrupted by a hand being held up. “Nope. Don’t call me that. That’s in the past. It’s Steve now, Queens, got it?”

Peter nods eagerly in reply and even manages a small quirk of his lips as Capt- no Steve walks past him outside.

Without him, there is nothing left between Peter and one of his worst nightmares.

*

For a second, Peter sees another moment in time. He remembers, opening the door, music blasting into his ears. There was this really cool car parked right in front of the house. He had a quiz at school that day, had aced decathlon practice and found this piece of junk to tinker with. Overall it had been a brilliant day and then when he had come inside, there had been Aunt May on the couch and next to her…

“Hey Mr Stark.”

“Wow, bud, don’t creep up on me like that.” Mr Stark turns around to face him, the movement heavy and slow. The right side of his face is covered by patches of burned skin, his right arm uselessly in a sling. He’s wearing a long black sleeved shirt, despite the heat outside. It had been warm for a May day, and even Peter had been convinced to wear a shirt by his Aunt. Even when said shirt revealed the still healing scars on his arms.

“Did you bring your incredibly hot aunt as well?” there is a smirk on the man’s face, light and teasing.

“Aunt May is outside. We brought a salad.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Peter feels stupid.

“Uhm, that salad…it’s not one of your aunt’s creations, is it?”

“No,” Peter shakes his head. “She got the recipe online and followed it.”

“It’s probably safe to give it a go then.”

For a moment silence hangs between them. Peter casts his eyes downward, it’s hard looking at Mr Stark. Not because of the burned skin, or the paralyzed arm, it’s just…every night he sees the man die in his dreams. And every time he wakes up, wondering if his dreams were indeed dreams or if they were reality and this here, right now was the dream. The illusion of a new life that kept him trapped.

“Oi, am I that hideous to look at?” Mr Stark sounds fake indignant. “Come over and greet an old hideous man, kid.” Mr Stark holds out his arm in invitation

It’s all Peter needs to hear; he swallows past the lump in his throat and crosses the distance between the two of them. Peter hugs him gingerly, careful not to touch the arm in any way. Mr Stark’s left hand is heavy on his back, comforting. Taking a deep breath, he takes in the familiar smell of the man’s cologne and hair gel. 

For the first time in weeks, Peter feels his frayed nerves settle and a calmness wash over him.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 

“How’s it going bud?” Peter sits next to Mr Stark on the couch, on the man’s bad right side and fiddles with a loose thread at his jeans pocket.

“Fine.”

“You sure about that? How’s school? Any hot girls around?” Although he uses a light tone, Peter feels like Mr Stark isn’t really himself. He thinks about MJ for a second, and then immediately stops. MJ was before, and now it just feels…different. Peter is pretty sure that he had liked her at one point, but now with everything that had happened, he isn’t sure he wants to have anyone get close to him. He had seen what it had done with Pepper, seeing Tony those first few weeks in the hospital. She had been there every day, only leaving when Morgan had to be put to bed. It had been touch and go for a while, Peter knew, because he had tiptoed out of bed and sat at Mr Stark’s bedside for hours during the night when the nightmares kept him awake. And there he had listened to the erratic beating of the heart monitor and all those other machines that had been wired to the older men.

They had all been in bad shape, but Mr Stark had been the worst off. It was a wonder that he had pulled through at all.

Peter doesn’t remember much from immediately after the battle. He remembers Thanos vanishing, one of his recurring dreams; he also remembers being at Mr Stark’s side and then Pepper pushing him away. There is patches of the battle he can’t remember, but the doctors said he would at some point, his memory would heal from the head injury he had sustained.

“Hey, don’t go quiet on me now.”

“Uhm, I’m sorry, I-I just…”

“I’m teasing you, don’t get your underoos in a twist, alright? Do you smell that? I think it’s time for some barbecue.”

They head outside together, Peter a small step behind Mr Stark; who still limps a little. He seems to be genuinely happy to see Aunt May, even goes so far as to kiss her cheek in greeting. As soon as he steps outside, Morgan is back at his side, holding an action figurine.

“Pete, let’s play! Let’s play!”

“I think food is about to be ready…but after okay?”

 Morgan nods eagerly and scampers up on a chair next to her dad.

Peter feels nervousness creep over him as he sees the table. It’s like being back in high school or middle school on your first day of school where you have to find a table to eat at without knowing anyone. The thing is, Peter knows these people, kind of. Capt- Steve is here with Bucky and Sam in tow; Wanda who looks content despite everything. Then there is Happy, who is already tearing into a steak watched by an amused Rhodey. It’s a small gathering of people and still…

“Pete, here.” Morgan pats the chair next to her, that way she will be sandwiched between her dad and Peter. She is a very demanding four-year-old, but he doesn’t mind.

Pepper starts serving the meat and the table breaks out into a flurry as everyone makes a grab for the food they want. Peter manages to eat something; all the while being pulled into a ‘conversation’ by Morgan who doesn’t seem to be able to stop.

When Peter had first met her, that day in the hospital he had been coherent enough to finally notice the things that were going on around him, she had been a shy little girl clinging to Pepper’s side.

Despite the pain, Peter had struggled out of his bed that day, used the drip as a crutch as he went down the hallway to find Mr Stark’s room. His whole body had hurt, and he had only been able to shuffle his feet along. His mind wasn’t back up to speed then, fuddled from whatever medication they had given him. He didn’t think about Aunt May or that she would get the fright of her life when she found his bed empty, he had only thought about finding Mr Stark. Peter had needed to know. Needed to know whether the man was still alive, or he had died.

Clutching the drip quietly, Peter had shuffled down the hallway, the never-ending hallway. He had passed room after room, white door after white door. In the end he couldn’t remember how he had found Mr Stark’s room. He simply had.

He had stumbled inside; his bare feet tripping over the threshold and found a startled Pepper sitting next to Mr Stark. She had been as surprised to see him as he had been. There had been no space for her in his equation.

With a startled “Peter!” she had jumped out of her chair and come to his side. Grabbing his arm, she had helped him into the chair where he had immediately slumped down. His body felt heavy and his legs were trembling, but Mr Stark was there. In front of him in the hospital bed. Alive.

It was then that Morgan had arrived, her big eyes looking up at Peter inquiringly.

*

“No, no, no! They don’t fight each other! They make kissy faces!” Morgan cries indignantly as Peter makes two of her action figurines fight each other.

“Look, Hulk and Thor do not make kissy faces at each other,” Peter tries to explain patiently.

“Why not?” Those big blue eyes stare up at  from his lap and Peter suddenly isn’t quite sure why Hulk and Thor shouldn’t be making kissy faces at each other.

“Alright. You win,” Peter acts as if the Hulk figurine is kissing Thor, all the while making funny noises.

Morgan shrieks with laughter, throwing her head back. He continues acting with the figurines to Morgan’s delight, wondering how the hell he got in that situation in the first place.

“Knock, knock,” Pepper pulls the playhouses’ door/curtain aside. “It’s getting late, time for bed Morgan. And Peter, I think your aunt is getting ready to leave as well.”

Suddenly, reality seems to be crushing back into this safe little space he had built with the four-year-old.

“Uhm, yeah okay.”

“Come and play with me again Pete!” Morgan throws her small arms around him and gives him as tight a hug as she can manage.

“I’m sure Peter is busy with high-school and won’t be able to drop by so soon again, sweetie.”

Peter swallows around the lump in his throat; he didn’t mind playing with Morgan. It actually meant being here where Mr Stark was, making sure the man was still there and not dead. But he couldn’t just argue with Pepper on this.

“But when he is not busy…” Morgan pouted.

“Come along now sweetie, time for bed,” Pepper says decisively and holds out her hand to take. Morgan grabs it with another look thrown at Peter and she waves to him as Pepper pulls her toward the house. Peter scrambles out of the playhouse and wanders over to the table.

Aunt May is already saying goodbye, shaking hands here and giving hugs out there. Sometimes Peter wishes he was as good as she was in handling social interactions. But he was most likely a lost case.

“There you are! Time to go, you have school tomorrow!” Aunt May smiles at him.

Peter says his own round of goodbyes, mostly consisting of him waving at people over the table. He’s just not comfortable shaking hands or giving out hugs right now.

When Aunt May finally makes a grab for the empty salad bowl, they walk over to their car, Aunt May waving once more in goodbye. She unlocks the car and takes the salad bowl from Peter to put it in the back. Now that it’s empty, there is no need to hold on to it anymore.

“Hey kid,” Peter turns around when he hears Mr Stark’s voice. “You let me know if you need anything, okay?” That stupid lump is back in his throat, so Peter can only nod.

“Let me have a word with your aunt for a moment.” Again, Peter nods and scrambles inside the car.

Aunt May steps up to Mr Stark and the two of them talk quietly for a few moments, before May hugs Mr Stark and gets in the car as well. She doesn’t say anything as she starts the engine, turning on the lights first as the sun is already setting. Soon they are moving down the road in the forest, the tress going past them in a blur. A strange wave of tiredness washes over Peter. He closes his eyes and falls asleep.

*

They are still in the car when Peter opens his eyes next. It must have only been a few minutes, because the forest whirrs past them, the trees a green blur.

“How long was I asleep for?” he mumbles throwing a look at his Aunt. She doesn’t respond, her eyes fixed on the road. “Aunt May?”

And then the hairs on his arms stand up, suddenly Aunt May starts to disintegrate in front of him. Before Peter can react, the car is out of control, swerving to the side and then bumping along the forest road. He doesn’t know how to drive, doesn’t know what to do. He makes a wild dash for the steering wheel but is too late. The car rams straight into a tree. Peter is thrown back, the seat belt biting into his shoulder and stomach. The airbag activates and his face hits it full front.

Peter waits a moment, then another trying to clear his head of what just happened.

When he finally feels coherent, he unbuckles the seatbelt with shaking fingers, grapples with the car door and then falls onto the soft forest floor.

“May? Aunt May?” Scrambling to his feet, Peter runs around the car, but the driver’s side is empty. Except for a small pile of dust. He can’t believe his eyes. A sob escapes his throat. “No. No…”

Swallowing the tears away, Peter does the only thing he can think off, he runs back up to the road and towards the Stark residence. He wasn’t asleep that long, surely, he will be able to reach their house before it is completely dark.

He runs and runs, trying to see light somewhere anywhere. It’s getting darker by the second, his breath comes in short gasps when Peter finally sees light behind some trees. He keeps running until he reaches the house.

“Hello? Mr Stark?” With his heart beating furiously inside his chest, Peter runs up the few steps leading to the house. He raps on the door, but there is no answer. “Mr Stark? Pepper?”

When he opens the door, he finds the house completely quiet. Where has everyone gone off to?

“Hello?” he tries again, but no one answers him.

Peter wanders through the house, his breath and heartbeat calming. The house is utterly deserted, despite the lights being turned on. He was just here. Not even an hour ago! The only thing left for him to check is the upper level. Taking the stairs two at a time, Peter enters the first room he can see. Judging by the toys on the floor it can only be Morgan’s room. Her night light is turned on, little stars thrown onto the ceiling.

“Morgan?” Peter edges to the bed, thinks that there maybe is a lump under the blanket. He switches on the lamp on the bedside table, reaches out to shake Morgan’s shoulder. His hand touches the blanket and it gives away to a pile of dust.

*

“Peter? Honey, wake up. We’re home.”

A soft shake to his shoulder and Peter throws his eyes wide open. It was a dream. Just a dream. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

“Are you alright? I didn’t want to wake you; you were sleeping so soundly.” Aunt May looks at him, barely concealed worry on her face.

“I’m fine. I’m okay.”

She doesn’t say anything, just throws him a concerned look before getting out of the car. They are indeed back in Queen, parked on the street in front of their new apartment.

Peter takes a deep breath, trying to clear his mind.

Was this reality? Or an illusion?


	4. Chapter 4

“Hey Kid, just wondering if you and your aunt want to drop by for some barbecue action on Saturday. Send me a message. A simple yes or no will do.” Tony tries to make his voice sound light and carefree. He has no idea if he is succeeding or not. Trying to type a message on your phone with only one hand is something he will have to practice for the future. There is many a thing Tony will have to change in his life, so he tries to do one thing at a time and not get overwhelmed with everything.

Like that first time, he felt strong enough to pick up Morgan again, only to realize in barely contained horror, that it was harder doing so with one arm. Bless, his daughter for not noticing. But he had a full-on meltdown that evening in bed with Pepper. As ever his wife was there to comfort him, to tell him that everything would be well in the end. It was a throw back to five years ago, when he laid in bed and kept seeing Peter turn into dust.

Peter was back now; the kid was safe.

So, he might as well check up on him by cover of a barbecue.

“What’s going on in that brilliant mind of yours?”, Pepper sits down on the sofa’s armrest, a cup of tea in her hands.

“Just wondering if we have enough gas for the barbecue on Sunday. Maybe I should pop around the store and get some.”

“Tony,” Pepper slides onto the sofa next to him and grabs his left hand. “What are you worried about this time?”  Like always she has seen right through him. Clever woman.

“You saved the world, now the only thing left to do is make it into a better place.” The way she smiles at him, makes him grow warm inside. Dear Lord, he was turning into an old sap.

“It’s just…” It’s hard to explain that he feels lost sometimes, at wit’s end about what to do now. Before, when he was Ironman, he had a mission. Somewhat. Now, Ironman was history, his old life was history. Not that he misses the endless nights of socialising at parties with people far beneath his intellect.

“Are you worried about Peter again?” Honestly, sometimes Tony could swear Pepper was able to read his mind. He made a non-committal sound.

“I’m sure he is doing fine. I called May the other day and they have moved to a new apartment; she’s got a job and he is going back to high school. All will be well once they have settled in.”

“Maybe I should go around and check on them…”

“Or maybe you should give them time to adjust before barging in on them.” She lets go of his hand and instead starts massaging the back of his neck. “You invited them to the barbecue, right? You will see how they are doing then.”

“Hmm.” As always, Pepper had a fair point.

*

“Dad, will Pete play with me tomorrow?” Morgan was already in bed, her favourite toy under her arm.

“I’m sure he will.” Tony places a kiss on his daughter’s forehead and cards a hand through her hair. She is starting to look a lot like his mother these days.

“But what if he won’t?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” It seems that Morgan shares her father’s insecurities, Tony muses. “He played with you before, at the hospital.” Suddenly, a lump grows in his throat. The hospital. Tony tries to push the thought, the memories away and focus on the here and now; on his little daughter seeking reassurance.

“But Pete is a big boy and I’m only four.” She holds up four fingers, like all kids do to show how old they are.

“I can’t think of a reason for anyone, anyone on this world not wanting to play with you. Now, lights out squirt. Love you.” He presses a kid to her forehead and receives a small giggle.

“Love you 3000 daddy.”

Tony throws one last look at his daughter, snuggled up safely in her bed and turns off the light. He waits another moment before closing the door, leaving it slightly ajar, just in case she needs something and calls, before going into his study. He knows that Pepper is most likely downstairs reading a book and drinking a glass of wine. Tony could join her, sitting on the couch quietly, not drinking obviously, but he feels the need to be alone for a while.

That nagging worry about Peter is back, a feeling he hasn’t been able to shake ever since he was deemed well enough to be released from the hospital. Peter had been allowed to go before him, and that was when the contact had kind of stopped. Tony knows that it must be hard for the kid and his aunt to adjust again. They had lost everything and had to start life from scratch. It hadn’t been easy for them before; it could only be worse for them now. At least the kid had come out relatively unharmed from their final battle. Tony shudders at the thought of what Peter had been doing then. Swinging around with the gauntlet under his arm, trying to keep Thanos from getting it. There had been more than one occasion where Peter had come close to losing a limb or getting seriously hurt.

He hadn’t but he could have.

What would he do if Peter picked up being Spider-Man and went out patrolling once more? There was no more Ironman, no one to protect the kid from any dangerous guys. That feeling of powerless, Tony has felt ever since, well, fighting in Wakanda overcomes him. It’s a feeling that settles deep inside of him, one he cannot shake no matter what he does.

Peter is his responsibility, his to keep safe.

What is he going to do now? How is he going to keep the teenager safe?

*

Tony tosses and turns from side to side.

The lack of pain meds, robbing him of his sleep. His arm and side ache, even when they are completely lifeless. He doesn’t know how Pepper keeps up with him moving so much in his sleep, or rather in his sleepless nights. Come morning he will have one hell of a headache.

“Go to sleep Tony.” Pepper mumbles, half asleep.

“Sorry, honey.” He apologizes straight away, tries to keep still for a moment, before eventually sitting up. There will probably be no sleep for him tonight.

Quietly, Tony gets out of bed. He tiptoes to Morgan’s room, checking if his daughter is asleep or needs anything, only to see her buried in her pillow, a small smile on her lips. He continues to tip toe down the stairs and settles in his favourite armchair.

It’s not yet light out, but things are already starting to take shape outside. Not long and the sun will be shining in on him. Even with his nerves frazzled for the day ahead, Tony can’t help but go through everything that is about to happen.

They will have breakfast in the morning, blueberry pancakes most likely as Morgan keeps requesting them. She is more of a banana pancake type, but she knows that the blueberries will make him happy and put a smile on his face, so she will eat blueberries instead. They will get ready together, and Tony will most likely play with his daughter outside to be out of Pepper’s way who will be busy preparing the food for the barbecue.

Happy will turn up first, bring Morgan a little something, and then help Pepper move the garden furniture out of the shed and set the table. Steve-no-longer-Captain-America will arrive next, Sam and Bucky in tow. It’s easier to look at Bucky these days, knowing that the man is sane now and Master of his own mind. Sam will try to lighten the mood with some weird jokes and only succeed in embarrassing himself. Wanda will turn up in the kitchen at some point, scaring Pepper half to death and then helping in preparing the food. Rhodey will drop by, literally, and just be there.

And then…

Then the kid will arrive with his hot aunt.

Yep. That’s what it was going to be like. No surprises on the way.

*

Tony wakes up in his favourite armchair, covered by a plaid blanket to the smell of blueberry pancakes and the comforting weight of his four-year-old daughter on his lap.

Morgan is snuggled in tight, still in her blue lighting bolt pyjamas, her bed hair tickling his nose. It’s one of these moments that make Tony realize how valuable life is, how important it was for this small human being for him to still be alive. Some days, when his thoughts and worries took over, Morgan was the light that pulled him out.

“Breakfast is ready!” Pepper’s voice sounds cheerful, pushes Tony’s bad thoughts straight away. He’s got a wonderful day ahead.

*

“You’re sure about never picking up that shield again?”

Steve stares at him as if he had grown two heads.

“We are both tired Tony, admit it.” He crosses his arms across his chest, showing off that bulging biceps.

“Have you seen the crime statistics-“

“We have done our share in saving the world. It’s our turn now to lay back and watch a younger generation take over.” It is said with such firmness, so much conviction. Tony wishes he could be as convinced about this as Steve is. Instead he bites his lip in worry. He shouldn’t have looked at the newspaper this morning, should have enjoyed the bliss of not knowing for once.

“What are you worried about? There is peace now, yes crime is high right now, but it will go back once people settle back into their old lives. There is no alien threat, no other crazy guy who wants to fight us. We are entitled to lay back and enjoy our life now.”

“So, you are listening to me after all.”

Steve throws him a quizzical look.

“I told you to live your life once. Jesus, that feels like a lifetime ago.” Tony cards his hand through his hair. When had he said this to Steve, eight or nine years ago? Longer?

“Why don’t you try and live your life too.” Tony is about to protest, the words already on his tongue when Steve holds up a placating hand. “I know you are living your life here, with your family, away from society, but I think you need to try and forget what happened in the past and move towards building a secure future. Here with your family. I see you looking at Pepper, at Morgan, and you look happy and carefree. But then you get this look on your face, like you are just waiting for the bomb to drop; for the Snap to happen. It’s over Tony, you need to understand that, get it through that thick skull of yours.”

“Excuse me, my skull is the appropriate thick for a genius human being like me. I bet yours is thicker, that’s why you are so thick-headed. And damn reasonable,” he adds under his breath. Of course, Steve has a point, the man always does. He has all the wisdom of an eighty-year old man that was frozen for a few decades and has now returned.

“I will send in the kid if I see him, alright?” Steve throws him one of his dashing smiles and leaves the room. Tony cannot help but sink down into the sofa cushions and sulk for a moment.

“Hey Mr Stark.”

Tony jumps a little upon hearing the voice, then slowly turns around to face the kid. His right side still hurts when he moves to quickly, the skin still tender.

“Wow, bud, don’t creep up on me like that.” It’s his turn to make his voice sound light and carefree. He immediately sees Peter’s pale face, the dark bags under his eyes, how skinny his arms look in that t-shirt. There is also the matter of the small scars criss-crossing on the kid’s arms. A daily reminder of what happened. It was the same with Tony’s burned face, whenever he looked in a mirror, he is reminded of what had happened.

“Did you bring your incredibly hot aunt as well? Tony tries to make his tone light, fights to put his tell-tale smirk on his face.

Peter is nervously playing with his hands. “Aunt May is outside. We brought a salad.” With Peter’s eyes downcast, Tony takes his chance and takes a closer look at the teenager. Besides the obvious skinniness, the just about healed scars and that messy hair, the kids looks…well, as if the sorrows of the world lay on his shoulders. Jeez, he starts to sound like Steve. He isn’t sure if he should try to lighten the mood again or if he should confront Peter straight away, something was clearly up with him. For now, Tony chooses the “lighten the mood” approach.

“Uhm, that salad…it’s not one of your aunt’s creations, is it?” For a moment Tony is starkly reminded of that date loaf Aunt May served him before he whisked Peter of to Berlin.

 “No,” Peter shakes his head. “She got it online and followed the recipe.”

“It’s probably safe to give it a go then.” Or not, who knew if May had followed the recipe to a tee or tried to add her personal note to it. Peter looks up at him and then immediately casts his eyes downward again. As if he couldn’t bear to look at Tony’s burned face. Maybe the kid was beating himself up for not protecting him or something. Lighten the mood Tony, lighten the mood.

 “Oi, am I that hideous to look at?” He tried to sound indignant. “Come over and greet an old hideous man, kid.” Peter seems to crumble at his words, and before Tony knows it, his arms are full of the now skinny teenager. He hears Peter inhale and settle down, patting his back in something he hopes is comforting to the kid.

It feels good to hold Peter again, to feel that he is still alive and well. For a fraction of a second, he sees the final battle again, when he first saw Peter after five years. The kid was alive, everything would be fine.

*

Tony cannot help himself and keeps watching Peter over dinner. Pepper, as ever, has been a darling and cut his meat in bite sized chunks before serving it; knowing very well that Tony would get embarrassed if he had to ask her to cut it for him in front of their friends. Not that any of them would have commented on it, but still…

Morgan, being just like her pops, kept talking to Peter and requesting he play with her later. The poor kid seemed at a loss of words as his daughter kept on and on about her toys. Tony isn’t worried about Peter not getting a word in, once Morgan really liked someone, she was hard to shut up. He was more worried about Peter not really eating anything, about the small portions that seemed to take forever for him to eat. May looked fine across the table, being wooed by Sam. She probably didn’t realize what was going on, taking the other man’s jokes as just that: jokes and not flirting.

For the rest of the day, Tony cannot help but watch Peter. There is this dazed look on his face, and then his eyes will snap back as if he is lost in his thoughts. He talks and plays with Morgan but seems to shy away from the adults. Was it just nervousness or was something up with the teenager?

 

*

“Hey kid, you let me know if you need anything, okay?” Peter nods at him, his eyes big like a deer caught in headlights.

“Let me have a word with your aunt for a moment.” Both Parker’s look at him quizzically, but Peter is as good as ever and gets into the car without another word.

Tony makes sure that the car door and window are closed, before turning to May.

“Are you doing okay? He looks a bit pale around the nose.”

May is clever enough not to look in Peter’s direction, a tell-tale sign that they are talking about him.

“He is doing fine at school, better than fine. He hangs with his friends, helps around the house…with the new job I’m not in as much, but whenever I am, he seems to be fine. I don’t know what is going on. Peter, he- he is a little quieter, more subdued. I thought it would pass, but maybe it won’t.”

It seems like a weight is lifted from the woman’s chest; worry is clear in her eyes.

“If there is anything, and I mean _anything_ , I can do for you, both of you, you have my number. Be it money, or someone to talk to. If you- if you need a break, some time for yourself; Peter can always stay here for a weekend. You are both welcome here, alright? Just,” Tony swallows “Just let me know how I can help.”

May thanks him by throwing her arms around him in a hug. Tony awkwardly pats her back and gives her a lopsided smile.

She waves and gets into the car. Peter looks at him, his eyes so big and wide, Tony fears they will fall out of his head and then the car makes a turn and he can only watch as it gets further and further away from him.

He ignores the heavy steps next to him, knows that words of wisdom will soon fall once more.

“Something’s up with the kid.” Steve crosses his arms across his muscular chest. As if the man only knew one pose. Tony makes a non-committal noise, trying to get his thoughts in order.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

 

That night is the worst night Peter has had so far. Right after closing his eyes around midnight, he falls into a fitful sleep. Since he sees his dreamscape every night, he has become familiar with the different dreams. Tonight, he is back in space and gets thrown straight into the fight against Thanos. But it’s not Mr Stark as Ironman that gets bashed, it’s him. His body hits the earthy ground, dust flying around him. A shock goes through him the pain so real that for a moment Peter thinks that this is reality. But it cannot be. Thanos is dead, disintegrated, dust.

Another hit to his stomach, breath whooshes out of him.

Where are the others? Why is he fighting Thanos alone?

He opens his mouth to scream for help, but Thanos is quicker. He grabs Peter’s head, lifting him from the ground. Peter struggles, tries to free himself. His hands can’t even grab Thanos’ wrist. He’s too small, too unimportant.

Thanos keeps beating him up, Peter feels his bones break, his skin split open.

By the end, or what he believes to be the end, he is broken, utterly broken.

“You see? You are nothing but a little boy, not worth my time. You think you can save the world, but what will you when there is nothing left.” The giant comes closer to him and then, with his left hand, he snaps. It’s as if everything around him explodes.

Peter feels the earth tremble, a shockwave underneath his broken body. And then everything seems to vanish and there is only darkness around him. There is no life, no existence. The darkness seems to creep closer; Peter finds it hard to breathe, he takes in mouthfuls of air, but still…nothing seems to help. He is utterly alone in this.

*

“How was your weekend?” Ned’s voice is cheerful, but the smile on his best friend’s face falters when Peter snaps his locker closed. He knows he looks terrible. Luckily, Aunt May was already at work this morning so she didn’t see him.

“Peter, what happened? Are you alright?”

“Yeah…just trouble falling asleep.” He had woken up at three in the morning, his body feeling as if it had been bludgeoned. There had been no bruises on his skin, nothing. Nevertheless, the dull pain had remained.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you should call your aunt, or at least go to the nurse’s office.”

“Don’t worry, I will just catch up on sleep tonight.”

“We have decathlon practice today,” Ned deadpanned.

Oh, Peter had totally forgotten about this. Somehow his brain is even more scrambled up than it was before.

“An early night then, come on or we need to hurry to Maths.”

*

Once more, Peter feels like the day goes by in a blur. He attends class, hands in his homework, answers questions when spoken to, has lunch with his friends and then the school day is over and it’s time for decathlon practice.

“Alright, losers. We have the new practice books, so everyone grab a copy,” MJ announces as all of the team are assembled. “This year we will be bored by the _Spanish Inquisition_. Still more interesting than World War II.”

Everyone grabs a copy of the practice books and goes back to their seats.

“Let’s skip the usual nonsense and start with page number four. Which pope issued the inquisition in the 12th century?”

Peter reads through the answers, having no idea who most of these men are. Annoyingly, Flash knows the answer and they continue with the next question. It goes on in this fashion, Peter growing agitated as he realizes he has limited knowledge of the whole subject and will have to study even more.

Ned pokes him in the side with his elbow, Peter leans closer so his friend can whisper in his ear.

“Are you sure that you are alright? We did an extra credit essay on this subject two, well seven years ago.”

Peter swallows hard. He did an essay on this? He doesn’t remember, not a thing. “Just a headache, I will be fine.” He racks his brain, trying to remember, but he just can’t. His mind is blank as if part of his memory is just gone.

*

By the time Peter has survived the afternoon rush hour of the subway, he is even more tired than he was before going to school. Even before he unlocks the door to the apartment, he can smell the food cooking in the kitchen. Aunt May is home then.

He unlocks the door and steps inside, taking a deep breath before calling out.

“I’m home.”

“Hey, I’m in the kitchen. Dinner will be ready in five.”

Just enough time for Peter to drop his backpack, take off his shoes and wash his hands. The table is already set when he enters the kitchen.

“How was your day, swee-“ Aunt May turns around as she hears him enter, the smile fading from her face.

“Peter!” she exclaims worriedly. “What happened? Sit down.” He is ushered into a chair and immediately May crouches down in front of him, one hand taking his wrist to feel his pulse, the other landing on his forehead.

“I’m fine, it was a long day is all.”

“Hush now.”

Silence hangs over them as May counts his pulse, the worried look not leaving her face.

“You don’t have a temperature, and your pulse seems to be fine. Do you have a headache? Stomach-ache?”

“A bit of a headache, but it’s fine. I swear.”

“I think bedtime for you after dinner. If you are not feeling better tomorrow, then you’re staying home.”

Peter swallows hard, he doesn’t want to miss school, doesn’t want to go to bed early. The academic decathlon book is in his backpack, he needs to at least try and memorize some of the answers before the next practice on Wednesday.

“I have homework…,” he trails off.

“Homework can wait, your health is more important.”

Peter is reminded of that first time in the hospital when May had visited him and he had been coherent enough to understand that she was there, that she was alive. She had said something similar to him back then, had had that same concerned look in her eyes.

“You hear me?”

“Yes, Aunt May,” his reply sounds as meek as he feels.

“Good. Now, dinner.”

*

After dinner he is ushered into bed, Aunt May keeping an eye on him as he brushes his teeth and then slips into bed.

“Call me if you need anything,” she smiles at him and hands him a glass of water and an ibuprofen. He swallows the pill dutifully and it’s a sign of how tired he his that after ten or so minutes of staring at the ceiling, Peter can feel his eyes close and his body succumb to sleep.

*

The alarm clock reads 11:14pm when Peter wakes up. A good four hours of undisturbed sleep, thanks to the ibuprofen. He feels a little more rested, although his mind is fuddled from sleep. Now that he is awake, he could try and do his homework for tomorrow. Surely, May is already in bed and won’t hear him if he is quiet.

He shoves his blanket aside, trying not to let the covers rustled too much. The walls of the apartment are thin, and May has always been a light sleeper. Creeping on his tip toes, Peter is about to turn on the light when he hears his aunt’s voice. He can’t make out any words, but the fact that she is talking to someone this late, spikes his curiosity. Instead of getting on with his homework, Peter opens his door a tiny bit, just enough for him to listen in to the conversation.

“Something is up, but he won’t talk to me.” A pause. “Yes. Yes, I have considered a therapist, I just wanted him to have a safe environment first. Of course. It’s just…it’s hard on him, I can see that. It’s worse than the time my husband died.”

Peter feels the lump in his throat growing. Whoever Aunt May is talking to, she is definitely talking about him. The word ‘therapist’ makes a shudder go through him; he wasn’t some kind of nutcase. He was fine.

“He looked like death today, maybe it was too early to go back to school. You think so? It’s not like him at all. Maybe that would be for the best. I will see how he is tomorrow and come back to you about this.”

Another pause, May must be on the phone with someone. Whoever it is, they seem to have a lot to say about him.

“No. Absolutely not. We can manage. I know you feel responsible but- fine. But only if Peter wants to, I’m not forcing him. Thank you. Goodnight.”

Peter closes the door again. In the darkness he fumbles for the small light on his desk and turns that on instead of the overhead light. He doesn’t want to think about what he just overheard. Homework is more important; decathlon is more important. That’s his future, he needs to focus on his future.

*

It’s better the next day.

The headache and tiredness are gone, despite sleeping only three more hours and going through a horrendous nightmare about the final battle. Aunt May seems to believe him to be better as well; she has made pancakes, not from scratch but from a mix, so they don’t taste like sawdust and are only slightly burned.

Peter chews and swallows dutifully, even tries to put on a real smile for her. It costs him all the emotional strength he has for the day, but it doesn’t matter. May gives him a kiss on the forehead before she leaves and only when the door closes behind her does the smile leave his face.

Despite the early hour, Ned has already sent him two excited text messages that he only reads once he is on the subway.

The way too school has become longer thanks to the new apartment, a good forty minutes he can study for decathlon or for any pop quizzes.

_7:54 Dude, did you hear about the Europe trip?_

_7:59 Talked to my dad, I’m so in!_

There is no time for Peter to think about what Europe trip Ned could mean if he wants to remember the fact that the Spanish Inquisition went on for about 500 years.

Ned keeps spamming him with fun facts about Europe, and all the cool stuff they can go and see. Instead of focussing on decathlon, Peter’s mind starts thinking about Europe as well. If it’s a school organized trip, then it will not be as expensive. Still, Aunt May just got back to working and they have no money to spare for him to go off and have fun. No money at all. It’s a good thing, he is not out patrolling and losing backpacks anymore.

With the school only being two more stops away, Peter gives up on studying and scrolls through all the messages Ned sent him. _Before_ he would have been laughing at his friend’s suggestions, now he only felt his stomach contract painfully.

_8:34 It’s a three-city trip! Venetia, Prague and London!!!_

_8:35 What’s Prague the capital of again?_

_8:38 We could take a swim in one of the canals! I bet no one’s ever done that! I mean like pretend we fall in and just take a dive! We should push Flash in as well._

_8:39 Do you think the water will be very dirty?_

_8:42 I hope Flash is not going_

_8:48 Dude, are you coming today?_

Peter types a quick reply and gets off at his stop, backpack slung casually over his shoulder. He used to wear it proper, but ever since that final battle, his shoulder has sometimes been giving him trouble. With all the various little pains and aches, some of them would vanish over time, others would stay forever, Peter feels like an old man. Sighing, he steels himself for tackling a new day.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 

There is a knock on his door and Peter looks up from his decathlon practice book just in time to see Aunt May poke her head in.

“Sweetie, do you have a minute?”

“Uhm, yeah, sure. What’s up?”

May comes inside and settles on his bed. He turns to face her, the first tremors making his hands shake. It’s just nervousness, he tries telling himself, everything is fine. He has good grades, he hasn’t been in any trouble whatsoever, not lost any backpacks.

“I can see you are studying really hard for school, and you’re also spending time with Ned…it’s just… Peter you know you can talk to me. I can’t shake the feeling that you’re hiding something from me. You’re so quiet these days, as if you have this big secret you can’t tell anyone about. But I think it’s making you sick. Look at you, are you even happy?”

A lump the size of a boulder keeps growing in his throat; Peter doesn’t know what to say to that. Clearly, Aunt May has thought about this for some time now. Had it been that obvious that something wasn’t right with him? He’s not intentionally trying to keep his fears a secret from his aunt, he simply doesn’t want to burden her with his problems at this time. Peter is not stupid, he can see the bills stacking up, all the paperwork that needs to be worked through. May has enough on her plate without him adding to it.

“I’m fine, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“Peter, please, you can talk to me.” May’s tone changes to pleading, the worry is evident on her face.

“I swear I’m fine Aunt May! Really! I just need to get back into things…”

Silence descends upon them; May studying him, while Peter tries to hide the shaking in his hands.

“If you ever want to talk…I’m always there for you.” She stands up and gives him a kiss on top of his head like she used to do when Peter was small. “I’m proud of you, and I love you, don’t forget that.”

“Love you too Aunt May.”

She throws him a small smile and leaves the room, closing the door softly behind her.

Pent up nervous energy drains out of Peter so quickly, that he sees black spots for a moment, his vision swimming. With his hands still shaking, Peter takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. From now on he would just have to make more of an effort; more smiling, more carefreeness.

*

Come Thursday, Peter feels his new fake smile become brittle. It had been forced from the beginning, but now the effort feels too much. Thankfully, Aunt May had believed his better mood the day before and this morning. Nevertheless, as the school day dragged on, Peter couldn’t help feeling tired. The thought of coming home and having to put that smile back on, darkens his mood so much that he wishes the school day would never end. Even if that meant endless academic decathlon practice.

Ned quizzes him on the Spanish Inquisition during lunch break. He hasn’t gotten far with the questions, not that it matters, they keep practicing the same thirty questions over and over. At least he knows the answers to these now.

“Okay, next one: Under which pope during the Spanish Inquisition- wait, do you think we will see the pope? The Vatican is like right next to Rome. Or was it inside?” Ned gets easily distracted by the Europe Trip these days. Peter hadn’t had the heart to tell him yet that he won’t be able to afford the money for it. Even with the school chipping in, the two weeks abroad are too much right now.

“The Vatican is inside of Rome, a separate country,” MJ pipes in, her head as always buried in a book.

“Wooow. That’s like…state-ception! A state within another state!”

“Rome is not a state, it’s a city.”

“Well, you know what I mean. Right, Peter?”

“Uhm yeah, state-ception haha…” Peter trails off, his laugh weak. Before he would have maybe laughed or would have slapped his forehead at his friend’s antics, now however he doesn’t feel like laughing at all.

“You alright loser?” MJ puts her book down and stares at him from across the table. Immediately, Peter starts to feel nervous, his hands shaking slightly. It’s a good thing they are in the cafeteria, so he can hide them underneath the table.

MJ keeps staring at him for some more time, before going back to her book. In that time Ned has continued talking about the trip as if nothing happened.

Peter feels even more awkward than before; as soon as the bell rings, he is the first one up, discarding the leftovers of his lunch – a meagre portion of Spaghetti that was meagre to begin with – and hurries to his next class.

*

There is a note on the kitchen table waiting for him when he comes home, the door locked.

                _I’m doing an extra shift at work, will be back late tonight!_

_Don’t wait up for me, dinner in the fridge._

_XXX May_

Still not feeling really hungry, Peter gets a glass of water and decides to get started on homework. It’s quiet outside, not many people have cars, so the streets don’t get crowded even during rush hour. Since the street lights won’t be turned on most nights, many kids are kept inside for as soon as twilight comes, crime happens. Once Peter would have been out there, swinging from building to building, stopping thefts and such. Now, he is glad to be inside, safely tucked away.

Peter pulls out the homework for tomorrow and gets to it. It’s a way for him to relax after a stressful day, in the quiet of his room, Peter can forget his worries. Even if it is only for a moment.

*

He doesn’t remember how he got here. Was it Doctor Strange who had brought him here? He remembers dying, if one could call turning into dusk dying. And then he was back and…that time has been lost to his memories, a chunk that is simply blackness.

There are more pressing matters to attend to right now anyways; the gauntlet in his arms for once. Peter swings around the battlefield, dodging enemies, swinging over fights. He doesn’t know how long he will have to do this; he simply hopes that Thanos won’t win. Yes, Thanos. The purple giant was fighting not too far away from him.

Peter dodges a chunk of… building and then feels himself fall. The noises of the battle seem to quiet around him, time itself seems to slow. Then Peter hits the ground, his shoulder immediately blossoms with pain. Something comes toppling down on top of him and there is only so much he can do to protect himself and also keep a hold of the gauntlet. His arms go to his head, he tries to curl into a ball. Darkness descends, dust falls on him.

He’s been here before.

Trapped underneath a building.

He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

His breath coming in short ragged gasps, Peter tries to move the boulder from him, but he can’t he’s too weak. Little spots appear in his vision, and there is only one thing he can think of: he screams for help.

*

“Peter?! Peter!”

There is a light slap to his face and Peter startles awake. He takes in a gasp of air, his heart racing in his chest. For a moment he doesn’t remember where he is, scrambling into the corner of the bed as far away as possible from the threat looming over him. No, not a threat. Aunt May.

“Peter? Sweetie, it’s alright, it’s just me. It was a bad dream.”

It’s Aunt May. It’s Aunt May. Peter keeps staring at the woman, taking in breath after breath until his heart stops racing and he doesn’t feel like suffocating anymore.

May crouches next to his bed, still in her nurse’s uniform. She must just have gotten home. The concerned look on her face, makes a sharp pain go through his chest. He doesn’t want to worry her anymore.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.”

“Oh sweetie,” tears gather in May’s eyes as she sits next to him and pulls him into his arms. Peter clutches her arm, suppressing the tears that suddenly threaten to spill. He _is_ okay.

*

Peter can hear Aunt May talking in the kitchen. He cannot make out the exact words, but he knows it must be about him. He feels like such a bother…if only- maybe it would have been better for him to not exist anymore. But that’s something Peter doesn’t want to think about, cannot think about. He has May, his friends, the prospect of studying at MIT, so many things to look forward too; so many things he can still accomplish. Life will get better, he tells himself, he just needs to find a way to overcome _this_.

May’s voice quietens from the kitchen. Peter waits, hoping to hear her steps coming towards him. For a long time, he doesn’t hear anything. Then: May tiptoes past his room, he hears her open the door to her bedroom and softly close it.

The rest of the night, Peter lies awake and watches his ceiling. When the first rays of sunshine filter through the blinds, he pulls the blanket to the side up and gets up. It’s time for him to face a new day. If he tries being a little bit more positive, maybe that would help him to overcome this whole thing. Peter grabs some clothes for the day and tries to only think about positive things.

*

Come lunch break Peter’s quest to be more positive is already at an end. It’s not because of the surprise pop quiz in history; nor his favourite teacher’s absence today: no, it’s Flash and his stupid comments. Just because Peter hasn’t been patrolling as Spider-man ever since the final battle, Flash keeps on ranting about what a douche Spider-man is and that the guy should “man up” and get back to swinging around the neighbourhood.

Ned keeps watching him from across the table as Peter sits on his trembling hands. Lunch is all but forgotten as he continues listening to Flash’s stupid comments. He wants to stop; he really wants to. Peter knows he should stand up and just leave; or give a biting comment back to Flash. For some reason his legs don’t want to move. His shoulders hunch, his head is bowed, and he keeps listening to the verbal abuse.

“Ignore him,” Ned whispers across the table, a sympathetic smile on his face. Usually Ned would be the first to defend Spider-man in a situation like this. For some unknown reason he doesn’t today. Deep inside, Peter wants him to. He wants his best friend to jump up and defend Spider-man, to tell Flash to sod off, so that they can continue to talk about Lego. Because that it what it used to be like before. Not now, not anymore.

Peter swallows heavily, the food on his tray still untouched. It will stay that way. Quietly, Peter shoulders his backpack and makes to stand up.

“You can have my pudding.” He doesn’t look at Ned, but he can feel the other’s eyes on him as he leaves the cafeteria. Ned doesn’t follow him, nor does Flash notice his absence.

Maybe it really doesn’t matter whether he is here or not.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven:

 

When Peter wakes up his whole-body hurts. Even worse than after he had fought the Vulture, if that was even possible. His had is pounding, making his vision swim. It’s light, so bright in fact that his eyes start to water. He blinks and tries to think, tries to wake his brain wake up enough to know where he is. After some time of simply lying there unmoving, Peter realises two things: first his body feels like one giant bruise, secondly…due to some weird miracle he is alive. Alive.

Peter tries to think back, how had he come here? What had happened? For his body to feel like this he must have been in some kind of fight? An image flashes across his mind. Space. Planets and stars. Aliens.

Space?

No that cannot be right.

He was on the bus during a school trip. Ned was sitting behind him and then…that giant space ship. Memories come flooding back: fighting that guy on the streets of New York; clutching the space ship; the fight inside the space ship; faces and names of people; Thanos.

A shudder runs through him, making his already aching body hurt even more. But Peter remembers, he remembers Thanos, the purple giant leaning over…Mr Stark. He had stabbed Mr Stark! Peter can feel his heart constrict painfully, can feel all air leaving his lungs. He gasps for breath, but there is no air for him to breathe. His vision swims again, becomes dotted with black specks and then…oblivion.

*

The next time Peter wakes up the room is dimly lit. Once again, he is aware of his aching body, but his mind already feels clearer. His head may still be pounding, but the pain has dulled. There is a thick feeling to his tongue and Peter longs for a glass of water. But first, he needs to know where he is. Bits and pieces have come back to him about what happened after they had fought Thanos. There was another battle, this time on earth. Large chunks are missing from his memory. How did he get back to earth? Who were those people he had fought with? Their faces wouldn’t sharpen; he remembers one, a woman yanking up into the air. How had she done that? Could she fly?

The more Peter thinks about it, the more his head hurts. Maybe he should try to focus on something else. For example, where he is.

Peter pushes himself up, his arms feeling like bruised jelly – if jelly could bruise that is –. When he finally manages to sit somewhat, he realizes pretty quickly that he is in a hospital room. The light is dimmed and not fully turned off, allowing him to see the medical equipment around his bed. There is a drip connected to his arm, the needle hidden underneath a band-aid in the hollow of his arm. Then there are weird little patch things stuck to his chest, another at his temple. A clip around his finger, a tube in his nose. Bandages and band-aids cover most of the skin he can see.

Surely, he cannot be beaten up that badly.

Peter struggles to remove some of the things, the tube in his nose is first, then he tries to take of the patches. As he finally pulls them loose, he feels like he has ripped of part of his skin as well. The needle in his arm won’t go. Peter tries, but his fingers shake and seem to be unable to grab anything. He tries and tries again and then…he snaps his finger.

A memory washes over him, so forcefully, that he curls together.

He held the gauntlet during the fight, the battle. Swinging over the battle field. He loses the gauntlet at some point; someone takes it from him. More importantly, he sees Mr Stark wearing it, the gold of it merged with his ironsuit. And then…Mr Stark snaps his fingers.

Mr Stark.

No.

No.

Peter remembers and the pain is so overwhelming, his body constricts, hurts. A sob makes its way up his throat, ready to turn into a wail. He pushes it down and tries to remember, tries to clear his head. But he just can’t.

There is only one way he can find out if Mr Stark is…

Peter uncurls, takes the clip off his finger and slowly moves towards the edge of the bed. His body protests, but he grits his teeth and continues. He needs to know. Every movement is agony, every little move makes pain blossom, but he doesn’t care.

Somehow Peter manages to get out of bed, somehow, he is able to grab the drip and take one slow step forward. His feet hit the cold ground, his skin turning into goosebumps. He is only in a thin hospital gown and without the blanket covering him, the air seems to be bitingly cold.

It doesn’t matter.

Peter needs to know.

One dragging step, followed by another and another, his hands clutching the drip as if it was a lifeline. The light is dimmed in the hallway as well. As if the whole hospital is asleep. Peter passes door after door, looking into every room through the small glass windows. There are people sleeping there…but none of them are Mr Stark.

His head hurts as he tries to remember names and faces, loved ones curled up next to the patients. As the pain gets too much, he stops. There is no use, Peter only wants to know where Mr Stark is. The thought of his mentor not being there anymore…again his heart constricts in his chest, his breath hitching. He shouldn’t think like that, Aunt May used to say that positivity could change the day.

Aunt May.

It’s the first time his aunt crosses his mind. Peter swallows heavily. What happened to her? Was she alive? Was she well? He stumbles, barely catching himself on the wall. It’s too much. The not-knowing, the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach, a sense of forewarning that everyone he cares about will be dead.

Pulling himself together, Peter continues his achingly slow trek down the hallway. Door after door he passes, but no Mr Stark. It’s not long before he realizes that he will pass out soon, there are black spots dotting his vision, his breathing is laboured, and he can’t feel the pain anymore. There is a room to his left, the door open and low light coming from it. He will go there, he has to, and someone will help him. Maybe a nurse or a doctor.

With his feet stumbling one more time, Peter trips into the room.

He sees strawberry blonde hair, then the woman turns around, most likely hearing his laboured breathing.

“Peter!” she exclaims, scrambling out of her chair.

But Peter only has eyes for the man lying in the hospital bed.

Mr Stark.

*

He doesn’t remember much upon waking, but there is a blanket around his shoulders, and he is sitting in a chair. There is the slow beep of a heartrate machine, whirring and hissing of more machines.

“Why is there a needle poking the boy?” A sweet lisp asks. Peter wants to open his eyes and see who is there, but they feel very heavy.

“Because he is sick, like your daddy. There is medicine in that bag over there. Do you see it? And it goes into his body using the needle,” someone explains patiently.

“Does it hurt?” Again, the lisp.

“No, the needle is very tiny, sometimes you even forget it is there.”

“Did a needle poke you before?”

“Yes, when I had you.”

“Will the needle poke me too?”

“Only when you are in hospital and very very sick.”

A beat of silence, Peter tries to move but it is too painful still, at least his mind is clearing somewhat.

“Will the boy be alright?”

A deep take of breath. “With time. Just like daddy.”

He feels his mind slipping away, ready to go back to sleep, to the jumble of images. No. He has to stay awake. Pulling all of his strength together, Peter forces his eyes open. Bright light makes him blink once, twice, before his eyes have adjust. He takes in the room, white walls, a sterile setting. In front of him a bed…containing the prone body of Mr Stark.

Unintelligible words jumble out of his mouth, Peter lurches forward, completely forgetting his aching body, the drip in his arm. He barely makes it to the bed, before he stumbles, the drip cluttering to the floor behind him.

“Peter!”

Suddenly there are arms helping him up, then the chair is underneath him once more and Peter is somehow sitting down at the edge of Mr Stark’s bed.

“Hey? Are you alright?” A soft hand touches his own and for a moment Peter thinks it’s Aunt May, but when he turns around it’s the strawberry blonde woman. Ms Potts, if he remembers correctly, well the last time he heard about her, she was engaged to Mr Stark.

“I’m fine,” he can’t believe his own voice sounds so rusty, unused.

“Are you sure? You gave me quite the scare when you came tumbling in here.”

“Mr Stark…” It’s the only thing on his mind, the only thing important to him right now. The man lies so still on his bed, so many machines attached to his body. It seems a wonder that he is alive.

“Tony is gonna pull through. It will just take some time.”

There is a heavy lump in his throat as he hears Ms Potts’ words. From all he can remember, it had looked like Mr Stark would be dead.

“Is he alright?” the voice is so quiet that Peter nearly doesn’t catch it.

“He is fine sweetie. Come and say hallo.”

Peter turns to Ms Potts again and sees the little girl, clutching at her leg. Her big eyes look up at him, spooked no doubt from his stumbling.

“Peter, this is Morgan our daughter. Morgan say hi to Peter.”

The little girl gives a little wave, Peter tries to force words out of his throat and eventually settles upon a grimace. Whole body hurts and he feels like stones are weighting him down.

“Morgan stay here for a moment and make sure they both don’t do anything stupid. Mommy is fetching a doctor.”

Peter sees the worried look and is about to protest, but Ms Potts has already left. Morgan stares at him, one of her hands holding tight to the bed frame. The longer Peter looks at her, the more she seems to look like Mr Stark. But how can that be? Did they have  a daughter in secret? Nothing makes sense.

*

The next time Peter wakes up, he is back in the hospital bed, the tubes and wires are back. At least his body feels better, the pain only a dull throbbing. He doesn’t remember how he got here. He only remembers Mr Stark in his hospital bed, Ms Potts, the little girl. What was her name? The memory seems so far away.

He can feel the hand carding through his hair, the touch light and familiar. Once again, his eyes are heavy, and he has to force them open. When he finally manages the herculean feat, the light dim and not hurting his eyes, he is met with the familiar face of his aunt.

“Hey sweetie,” she looks down on him, her hand stroking a stray lock of hair out of his face. “I’m so happy to see you.”


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

 

Peter gets the text during math, he feels the phone vibrate in his pocket, but doesn’t pull it out. He is trying, in vain, to understand the equation the teacher has scribbled onto the whiteboard. For some reason, however, he has a really hard time concentrating. As the teacher explains, Peter writes down every word, every step, trying to wrap his head around the new concept. He has never had any trouble with numbers before. It must be his tired brain, he decides. Tonight, after dinner, he will sit down and solve the problem. It’s Friday and Peter has the whole weekend to figure this out. He already knows that May will probably be working at the hospital most of the weekend. As soon as people leave their 9-to-5 jobs on Fridays, they get reckless and into more accidents. Therefore, a lot for May to do at the hospital. Leaving him alone.

Which used to be fine. No problem, except that now he doesn’t swing around the neighbourhood in his Spider-Man suit.

Now he sits at home alone, worrying. Before Peter would have simply made plans with Ned, his best friend always having time for him and vice versa. These days, however, Peter would rather be alone than spend time with Ned outside of school. It’s not that he doesn’t like him anymore. It has more to do with the fact that Ned is still the same and Peter isn’t.

When the bell rings, he packs his backpack and walks to his next class with Ned. The text message all but forgotten.

*

“…anyways my mum is taking us out to the new restaurant that opened up on- hey look at that nice car!” Ned exclaims and stops Peter by grabbing his arm.

They survived last period of the day and an impromptu decathlon meeting held by MJ and were on the way to the subway station. Other strugglers are pushing past them, throwing the fancy car parked in the parking lot a longing look. Most of the student’s families are struggling these days, so seeing a well-maintained expensive car in the parking lot is an event for them.

Peter knows only one person who could own such a car.

A lump the size of Mount Everest grows in his throat and he can feel his skin prickle. It couldn’t be, right? Mr Stark wasn’t well enough just yet…he had only seen him like a week ago. No way could the man already drive a car. And why would he come here all the way to New York? Surely, not for him.

“Let’s have a look!” Ned sounds just as excited as he does when he gets a new Lego set and there is nothing Peter can do as his friend pulls him along. The subway station is in the same direction as the parking lot, so it doesn’t even look weird that Ned keeps dragging him, they could just be two students trying to catch a train.

Before they can reach the car, one of the car doors open and for a moment Peter thinks he imagines it, but there she is: Ms Potts, well Mrs Stark now.

His mouth opens in surprise, Ned lets go of his arm, the surprise written on his friend’s face as well.

“There you are Peter! I was wondering what was taking you so long.” Pepper is in a dark blue pantsuit, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She looks professional, as if she had stepped out of one of those business magazines. Within a few steps, she crosses the distance between them and engulfs him in a hug. Peter is still too stunned to react, only when Pepper pulls away and smiles as him, does he close his gaping mouth.

“Uhm, hey Mrs-“ a raised eyebrow immediately interrupts him. “…Pepper,” he ends lamely.

“You look surprised? Didn’t May call you?”

And that’s when Peter remembers the text he got early. For a moment he fumbles to get his phone out of his pocket and then sees the missed message from his aunt.

_11:57 I’m sorry sweetie, but I took a 24hrs shift at the hospital this weekend! Pepper will pick you up after school and I will pick you up on Sunday! Love you XXX May_

Peter swallows as he reads the message. A weird feeling settles in his stomach, too many emotions coming together, making him unable to define what he is feeling. Is it dread? Or joy? Nervousness?

“I-I guess I will see you Monday Ned.” It’s the first thing that comes to his mind. Ned just nods, still taking in the car and the presence of Pepper. His reaction is nearly the same as it was when he found out that Peter was Spider-Man.

With a smile firmly in place, Pepper ushers Peter into the car and before he knows it, they are leaving the school’s car park.

*

Peter can’t stop fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He feels out of place in the expensive car in his worn clothing and scuffed trainers. There is just about enough money to do some shopping at charity shops. At least there was a wide variety to choose from. Many people donated clothing after the Snap, trying to rid themselves of the memory of lost ones.

And then there is also the fact that he still doesn’t know what he is feeling. There is definitely nervousness coiling in his stomach. It’s only been a few days since they went to the barbecue, since he saw Mr Stark. It’s an unexpected turn of events that he is on his way back to the Stark’s lake house, upon his aunt’s request that is. Had she been talking to Mr Stark on the phone when he had overheard her?

His silence seems to get to Pepper as well, the woman starts fiddling with the radio stations, changing from classic rock to soft pop music and back again.

Peter takes a deep breath; he feels like he should be the one breaking the silence.

“I-uhm…thanks for letting me stay with you.”

Immediately Pepper stops fiddling, her hand going back to the steering wheel. At the next red light, she turns to him.

“We’re happy to have you. Morgan is especially thrilled, be prepared to build pillow forts the whole weekend.”

Despite Pepper’s assurance, Peter can’t help but feel that he is intruding in their happy family life. He fears it will be even worse once they arrive at the lake house.

Conversation dips once more, but Pepper seems to be calmer, concentrating wholly on navigating the busy Friday afternoon rush hour. Peter still fiddles with the hem of his shirt, picking at loose threads and wringing the fabric. The grey city whirrs past him, then they leave New York enter the highway, and as the sun sets, they make the turn into the forest surrounding the lake house.

His chest constricts as he sees the tall looming trees; his nightmare from last week still in his mind. From the corner of his eye, he watches Pepper drive, waits for any sign that she could be disintegrating. As nothing happens, he grows calmer. Everything will be fine, he thinks.

*

The sky is getting dark by the time they reach the lake house. Pepper surprises him by getting a packed overnight bag out of the trunk. Apparently, she picked it up at their apartment in Queens before driving to Midtown High. Its only then that Peter wonders if this weekend thing, or whatever you may want to call it, had been planned long in advance. Alas Aunt May despises lying, so it couldn’t be.

Peter holds tight to his backpack and the overnight bag, while Pepper carries a laptop case and briefcase. She must have come straight from a business meeting, that would also explain the expensive pantsuit.

Before they reach the first step of the porch, the door is flung open and Morgan runs outside, greeting them with a high-pitched squeal.

“Pete!” she lunges and wraps her short arms around his leg.

“Hey Morgan,” Peter awkwardly pats her head, unsure if he should return the hug. Morgan doesn’t seem to notice, she smiles up at him, eyes sparkling with joy. The familiar lump gets back in his throat upon seeing her look; the feeling of being a burden washing over him.

“Let’s go play tea party! You’re the last guest missing!” Her smile is cheeking, and so warm that Peter feels like a tiny needle is stabbing into his heart.

“Don’t I get a kiss hello?” Pepper jokes, a smile also on her face.

“No!” Morgan proclaims, finally letting go of Peter’s leg, only to grab his hand. “Let’s go! Let’s go!” She begins tugging him, before Pepper smoothly steps in.

“You can play with Peter tomorrow, if he wants to,” she adds with a look in his direction. “Let him settle in first and then dinner and time for bed.”

A pout overtakes Morgan’s face, her eyes becoming large and pleading. For a moment it seems like Pepper will not budge, but then her own eyes soften. “Why don’t you show Peter to his room while I get dinner on, hm?”

Another high-pitched squeal, this time in consent and Peter is pulled inside the house.

Morgan leads him up the staircase, past her bedroom and towards the end of the upstairs hallway. “Bathroom,” she points to the door on her left, before reaching up to open the door in front of them. The doorknob turns without a squeak and reveals a small but cosy room. Immediately, Morgan jumps onto the bed, looking at him expectantly. Peter takes a moment to have a look around; there is a queen size bed to his right, a bedside table to its right on top a lamp. On his left a dresser, next to it an armchair, tucked into the corner of the room where the light from the roof window comes in. Everything is made from wood, plain and simple, but giving the room warmth. Outside, Peter can still see the trees in the dimming light. It’s so quiet, no rushing cars, no public transport, no people.

“Will you play with me now?” Morgan jumps up on the bed, wrinkling the white bedding.

“How about you let Peter put down his bag first squirt?”

The voices sends a shiver down Peter’s spine and he whips around; Mr Stark casually stands in the doorway; his bad arm hidden in a dark sling, the skin on his face at last looking better, but still angry.

“Hey kid.” For the second time today, Peter stands rooted to the spot, mouth agape. Mr Stark steps towards him and clasps his shoulder. “Good to have you here.”

*

At dinner, Peter cannot help but feel like an outsider, like the intruder that he is. The Starks seem to have the perfect family life. Pepper made a simple, but delicious pasta meal which Peter really, really wants to eat, but his stomach doesn’t stop being in knots. Morgan keeps chatting away, telling him about this and that, Peter barely able to keep track. While Pepper and Mr Stark discuss the business meeting Pepper attended that day in New York.

There is sauce all over Morgan’s face and she keeps smearing more across her hands, as she tries to wipe it away. Pepper scolds her as she notices, while Mr Stark winks at her. Overall Peter simply doesn’t know how to handle the situation. He is not used to many people eating together like this. Yes, he does have school lunches, but it is usually him and Ned, occasionally joined by MJ. It’s not like this, not like a family dinner kind of thing.

“Is the food to hot?” Pepper’s words slice right through his thoughts. Peter hasn’t even noticed that he had drifted off.

“N-No it’s…it’s totally fine. Sorry.” He cringes inwardly for apologizing. To underline his point, Peter puts a mouthful of pasta into his mouth. It’s better than fine, but even after taking that one bite, he feels already full.

He continues to take small bites during conversation, answering questions when asked, but not contributing much more.

Pepper serves Morgan a bowl of ice cream for dessert and offers one to him as well, which he declines.

“I can do the dishes!” he jumps to the occasion, already half out of his chair when Pepper starts bringing the empty plates into the adjoining kitchen.

“Thank you, but no. You’re a guest Peter. I can manage some dishes.” The woman smiles at him and Peter sinks into his chair.

Mr Stark is busy going through some papers, Morgan wholly focused on her ice cream. It gives Peter a chance to take a closer look around. All he can see is a happy family home. Furniture that is well used and bears the mark of a small child, scratches in wood, toys hidden in corners. There is flowers and plants on the windowsill, pictures on the walls. Outside lays darkness, the forest closing in on the lake house. It’s so different to New York, so different to his neighbourhood, to his apartment.

“Alright, time for bed. Say good night to you mom and Peter.”

Morgan, her mouth still red from pasta sauce, gives Pepper a kiss on the cheek and a short hug around her throat, before scrambling out of the chair.

“Good night Pete. You will play with me tomorrow, promise?”

“Yeah, of course.” Seeing the puppy eyed look in her face, what else was he supposed to respond? Morgan gives him a wide smile and takes Mr Stark’s proffered hand.

Pepper has her back turned to him, doing the dishes and humming quietly under her breath. A tenseness settles in Peter’s shoulders. He has never been good with conversations, and he feels so out of place here…he would rather be alone in Queens and do his homework then- Homework. He has homework!

“I-I have some homework I still need to do.” Pepper stops in her motions and turns around. “Of course, why don’t you bring it downstairs?” she suggests.

Peter nods eagerly. It’s not ideal, he would much prefer doing his homework upstairs, alone, but there is no desk in the guest room so the kitchen table will have to do.

He slowly leaves the kitchen and climbs the staircase. The light in the upstairs hallway is already dimmed, no doubt to get Morgan to settle for bed more easily. Peter tries to be extra quiet, tip toeing past Morgan’s slightly ajar bedroom door.

“Good night daddy.”

“Good night sweetheart.” Mr Stark’s soft voice makes him stop in his tracks. “You know how much I love you?” Morgan giggles, the sound so pure and innocent. “I love you this much.” Peter cannot see what they are doing in there, but it sounds like a nightly ritual between parent and child.

“And I love you three thousand daddy!” Morgan exclaims happily. There is a creaking of the floorboards, then the light in Morgan’s room is turned off. Before Mr Stark can see him, Peter vanishes in the guest room, closing the door behind him softly, before sinking to the ground. A noise wants to make its way up his throat and Peter swallows it down.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

 

The darkness blankets him, it’s heavy, pushing down on him. When Peter checks his phone, it reads 2:24am. It’s been a good five hours since he retired to the guest room, claiming tiredness from a long day at school and the ton of homework that he had to do. Even when most of his homework was just prepping classes for the week to come.

He had sat at the kitchen table and quietly worked through Spanish vocabulary, Mr Stark sitting at the other end reading through the work documents, Pepper reading a book in the adjoining living room. The fireplace had been on, the logs crackling the only sound disturbing the quiet.

After what Peter had deemed an appropriate time, he had gathered his things, making sure that he packed everything away, before saying good night. Mr Stark had looked up shortly from the papers, while Pepper had gotten up to make sure that he had everything he needed.

Peter hadn’t even thought to check the bag Aunt May had packed for him.

As he went through the contents, he found all the clothing he would need for two days but didn’t seem able to find a toothbrush. Luckily, Pepper had one in store which she gave to him together with a towel. Once Pepper had wished him a goodnight, Peter had changed into his pyjamas – a nerdy shirt and pyjama pants – brushed his teeth and climbed into bed. He wasn’t tired-tired, not that tiredness one felt after a long day, more a tiredness that bordered on exhaustion from long nights of having nightmares.

It was this fear of having a nightmare that keeps Peter awake just now. Instead of closing his eyes, he listens to the sounds of the house: Pepper coming upstairs and checking on Morgan before retiring, then soon after Mr Stark’s own heavier steps. For a moment Peter thought he heard the man in front of the guest room door, but he wasn’t entirely sure.

There is creaking of wood and the rustling of wind moving through trees. The total absence of the sounds he is used to is unnerving. It’s the same in the new apartment, Peter misses the noise of moving cars, cats yowling in back alleys, people screaming at each other in the middle of the night. Everything is just too quiet, lifeless. He knows that sleep will not come tonight. Turning on the bedside lamp, the dim light casts shadows across the walls. He sees his own shadow, a lump underneath a blanket, no definition, no clear lines. Still Peter, but also not.

Pushing the blanket aside, he grabs his phone and decides to go downstairs. He doesn’t like the feel of the empty guest room, maybe once he settles downstairs, he will be able to catch some sleep…and then hopefully his nightmares won’t be too bad for anyone to notice.

Tiptoeing across the dark hallway, the flashlight on his phone the only light source, Peter quickly descends the stairs into the equally dark living room. A lonely lamp is turned on in the hallway, the light so dim that even with his enhanced senses Peter has trouble to make anything out. He’s uncertain whether or not he should just lay down on the sofa, he feels like an intruder. Maybe a glass of water first. And he could just sit down at the kitchen table.

The kitchen is completely dark, and Peter has to turn the light on. As the light is so bright, he shields his eyes with his hand for a moment, before his eyes adjust to it. He has no idea where anything is in this kitchen. It takes him a few tries to find the cupboard that holds glasses.

It’s weird being at a strange house, Ned still lives in his old apartment, his dad unable to move away from his lost family. Now that he has his son and wife back, he is more than happy to not have moved away. Ned kept all his old stuff, all his lego and hats whereas Peter had to start again, is still starting. Once again, he is reminded of the stash of mail Aunt May tries to keep from him; the forms and bills. It’s a lot and Peter knows he isn’t exactly helping; especially with whatever is going on in his head, the nightmares and insomnia.

The glass full of water offers no answers, clutched between his hands, a ring of water forming underneath. The tiny scars crisscrossing his hands and arms are the constant reminder of what happened. Even if this reality doesn’t feel real at all.

“You alright?”

Peter hadn’t heard him coming in.

It’s as if his spider sense keeps turning off on him. It never used to be that way before; he had always been hyperaware of everything.

“Just thirsty.” It’s so easy for him to lie these days, the lies don’t even feel bad on his tongue anymore.

“Let’s cut the bullshit straight away. I know something is up with you.”

Peter doesn’t need to turn around to see the expression on Mr Stark’s face. He hears the man’s soft steps and sees his shadow as he sits down on the opposite side of the table. Alas, Peter doesn’t look up, something is coiling deep down in his stomach; dread?

“Let me get to the point: I know something is up. You’re not chatty. You’re not excited. You’re not Spider-Man. What happened to you kid?”

Mr Stark pauses as if he is waiting for Peter to answer. However, there is nothing Peter can say. He doesn’t know himself what happened, he just knows that something is off.

“Peter.” He swallows. “Peter look at me.”

It feels like a boulder is weighting him down, his neck straining, then eventually Peter manages to look up. His hands are sweaty around the untouched glass of water.

There is worry plain on Mr Stark’s face. No anger. Just worry.

“I thought we had established you could always talk to me.”

Peter swallows again, the lump in his throat the size of Mount Rushmore. A bitter thought crosses his mind; when did Mr Stark ever offer him to speak freely, openly? For a moment, Peter wants to give in and say what is on his mind, but then he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to hurt the other man’s feelings.

“I’ve been talking to your Aunt.” Of course, he has. “You’re not sleeping, you’re not eating, you’re not seeing your friends. You can’t tell me you just decided to become like this. That’s not who you are Peter. I know a lot has been going on, and I’m not going to tell you to man up, cos that is something my old man used to say to me. You know where it got me, right? Therapy. Lots and lots of therapy. If something is going on, you need to talk about this stuff.”

What is he supposed to say to this? He doesn’t know himself anymore, doesn’t recognize this world.

“I know it’s a lot. Let’s start with something easy. Any chance the reason you’re not sleeping are nightmares?”

Peter nods.

“Okay, good. See that’s opening up. And you’re not eating because…?”

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbles, barely even hearing his own voice.

“What was that?” A pause. “Hey, hey Peter, look at me.” He hadn’t even noticed that his gaze had gone back to the table top.

“We’re going to talk about this now. Whether you like it or not. Have you even seen the way you look? You’re about to keel over from whatever burden you’re carrying around. Whatever is going on inside that head of yours, you will tell me now.” Mr Stark’s voice takes on a sharp edge as if his patience with Peter has truly run out.

The thing is Peter doesn’t know how to formulate what is going on inside his head. There are so many things at once playing on his mind. There is the battle with Thanos, the near death of Mr Stark himself, all that death and destruction. Then the fact that he didn’t exist for five years of his life. How would that make you feel? The scars on his body that remind him every day of the things he has lost. The struggle of starting life again with Aunt May after everything. He was in space, he was non-existent, then he came back through some kind of magic trick. None of these things seem possible, none of these things seem real.

Peter can’t talk about this. He scrambles out of the chair, knocking over the glass of water and does the first thing he can think of: run outside into the darkness.

*

It’s cold outside, colder than he would have expected. The woods are behind him, as is the house. Peter could have run into the woods but decided against it. He would probably break his neck stumbling around in the dark. The lake is safer. He can see the light from the kitchen behind him, hear the waves lapping at the sandy shore.

It’s peaceful, quiet, the complete opposite to what is going on in his head. Thoughts racing, tumbling around. With his bare feet, Peter steps towards the water, the sand is cold and wet between his toes and the water cold. The first wave hits him, the hem of his pants immediately wet. But it’s okay, he doesn’t mind.

The air is fresh, and Peter tries to clear his head by breathing. He remembers the breathing exercises Aunt May did when right after Uncle Ben had ben shot. He had watched her, hidden behind the door as she sat on her bed breathing in and out, tears streaming down her face. Would things be different if Uncle Ben was still here? Would he even be Spider-Man. There is no way of knowing how his life would be right now. Maybe he wouldn’t be standing in the cold lake in the middle of the night. And maybe Thanos wouldn’t have gotten the stones, wouldn’t have erased half of humanity.

This time, he hears Mr Stark, hears the crunching sand underneath the man’s feet.

“I’m not good at dealing with teenagers. At least not yet. Hopefully Morgan will be a sweet-tempered girl, giving her old pops no trouble. But that’s in the future.” Mr Stark sighs. “I will not force you to talk to me Peter. I can see that there is something troubling you and I’m worried is all. Maybe you don’t know what’s wrong either. That’s okay. But please kid, just talk to me.”

It’s that pleading tone that does it in the end. Once Peter opens his mouth, the pent-up words seem to tumble out of it. There is no time to take any breath between them.

“When I’m asleep, I always dream of the battle. Always. Every night. I see you dying, stabbed by Thanos, dying wearing the gauntlet. Sometimes I can move, sometimes I cannot. Sometimes I die too, can feel my body just vanishing. I see other people vanishing, disintegrating in front of me, one moment they are there, the next they are gone. Over and over. And sometimes, it doesn’t feel like I’m sleeping, it feels real. Because some of it really did happen, but other things didn’t. And I don’t know what is real and what isn’t. And nobody else seems to feel this way. They are all so happy and act as if nothing happened. But something did happen! I look at you and I think: is this real? Or is he dead and I’m dead and this is…what is this? Reality? I don’t know, okay? I don’t know!”

Peter screams the last words, his voice carrying through the night. There is a wetness on his cheeks that hasn’t been there before and when he tries to feel what it is, his fingers find tears streaming down his face. For a moment, a shocked silence falls over them. Peter wants to turn around, wants to make sure that he didn’t imagine Mr Stark standing behind him, but that the man is really there.

He doesn’t have to.

A moment later a warm arm comes around his chest in an awkward yet strong hug.

“This is real Peter.” Mr Stark is a solid presence behind him. The man holds him close to his chest. Peter cannot stop the tears on his face, cannot stop his rapid breathing.

“But how do you know? How do you know this is real?” His voice sounds small even to him.

He waits.

Mr Stark doesn’t answer.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

 

“You are both going to catch your death if you don’t come inside now.” Pepper’s voice sounds dry. Reluctantly, Peter let’s go of Mr Stark’s embrace, his face hot and blotchy from crying. He is kind of embarrassed for his show of weakness, it’s not like he had planned to start bawling in front of anyone any time soon. Not even Aunt May.

“Okay?” Mr Stark’s voice is so low only Peter can hear him. He doesn’t trust his voice not to break, so Peter only nods in consent. An arm is slung around his shoulders and he is led back inside.

The light in the living room is now turned on, the bright light hurting his eyes before adjusting.

“It’s nearly four in the morning. What were the two of you doing outside? Having a tea party?” Pepper’s voice sounds sharp, but not angry, there is something else swinging in her voice.

“Peter, why don’t you go back to bed?” It’s not a suggestion and he knows it. With a mumbled sorry, Peter trudges upstairs. He cannot hear anything from the living room, no fighting or anything. He just hopes he didn’t mess up anything.

Back in the guest room, he sits on the bed and waits. For anything really. Voices from downstairs; steps on the staircase. For what feels like a very long time no noise comes up to him until about twenty minutes later. He hears Pepper’s lighter steps first, then the heavier ones of Mr Stark. They both seem to go straight to the master bedroom.

Peter waits another few minutes before getting into bed. His body is tired, although his mind races. Did he say too much? Should he have just kept his mouth shut and pretend to be fine? Mr Stark had seen through him, just like Aunt May was bound to see through him anytime soon.

*

His head is pounding something terrible from lack of sleep. Bright light sweeps in through the windows, another beautiful May day greeting him. Over the tops of the trees he can even see part of the blue sky; something he could never see in any of the apartments in Queens. When Peter checks his phone, it shows only 8 am, early for a Saturday, early for a teenager that has no school and can sleep in. With more than a little apprehension, Peter forces himself out of bed and into the bathroom. He takes care of his business and does a quick wash before getting dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt.

Nervousness slowly overtakes him; but there is no avoiding it, he will have to go downstairs eventually. Morgan’s bedroom door is ajar, her bed empty, the blankets pushed aside. The master bedroom door is equally open, but Peter doesn’t dare to peek inside. The first tunes of music reach his ear as he descends the staircase; then Morgan’s voice as she stumbles over the words no doubt coming from a radio.

As soon as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, the smell of pancakes wafts over to him. They smell good, but not good enough for him to feel any kind of hunger. His head keeps pounding behind his eyes fiercely, something he knows will only get better with ibuprofen induced sleep. Not that he has any ibuprofen on hand at the moment. With a sigh, Peter steels himself, putting on his fake smile and steps into the kitchen.

“Pete!” Morgan stops her singing and throws him the brightest smile he has ever seen. It’s as if she knows he is upset. “Good morning.” His voice sounds even weaker than he feels.

“Did you catch some more sleep?” Pepper stands at the stove, a flowery apron tied around her waist. She holds a spatula ready to flip the pancakes in front of her.

“Uhm yeah. Thanks.” For a moment he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Should he just sit down, or-?

“Have a seat. You want some coffee kid?” Mr Stark comes in from the veranda, his own coffee mug firmly in hand.

“Tony! He is too young for coffee! Would you like some orange juice or milk Peter?”

Peter can feel himself blush a little, his cheeks heating up. “I’m fine with water.”

Mr Stark only raises an eyebrow at him as he sets down his mug on the kitchen table and sits down. Morgan throws her father an equally bright smile and returns to carefully cutting her pancake.

“If you change your mind, the orange juice is in the fridge,” Pepper smiles at him as she hands him a glass of water. “How many pancakes do you want?”

“Uhm…” the first thing that comes to his mind is to decline. He is not hungry, he will just have his water, when Mr Stark answers for him: “Three for Peter, four for me Pep.”

Before Peter can interject, Pepper hands him a plate holding three pancakes. “They’re chocolate chip, I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, no that’s fine!”

“What’s your favourite pancake? I like chocolate, but daddy likes blueberry best.”

Peter remembers a moment from before, Aunt May in the kitchen happily humming. He had just started as Spider-Man but hadn’t met Mr Stark yet. It was a warm summer morning, not hot like the middle of summer tended to be. He had come into the kitchen and had been overwhelmed by the smell of May’s cooking. For once it had seemed like her recipe was working out. She had smiled at him when she had sat the plate down in front of him, a big carefree smile. On the plate, a stack of slightly burned pancakes, pieces of apple baked on top, cinnamon and sugar sprinkled on top.

Aunt May didn’t smile like that anymore. She did smile, it was just…not like it used to be. Breakfast these days was toast, bagels if they had the money to spare, nothing as fancy as pancakes though. The price for fresh produce like dairy or eggs was simply too high.

“Apples and cinnamon.” He can feel the taste of the sweet apple and cinnamon on his tongue, it nearly makes him feel hungry, nearly.

“Mom can we have apple and cinnamon pancakes tomorrow?” Morgan asks sweetly.

“I can certainly try. Would you like that Peter?”

And with that the uncomfortable feeling returns. “It’s fine…whatever you had planned.”

“Apples and cinnamon it is then.” The smile never vanishes from Pepper’s face. She goes back to the stove and continues flipping pancakes. It’s a few minutes of silence where the only sound comes from the radio and the sizzling pancakes. Morgan is concentrating on cutting her pancakes, while Mr Stark tucks right into his pre-cut breakfast. Peter just stares at his plate, wishing he could feel anything close to appetite. But there is nothing. Slowly, he picks up the cutlery and cuts a normal sized piece of pancake off. It’s just an act, he tries telling himself, an act that once finished will not have to be repeated. He continues eating in such a fashion, ignoring his headache and the people around him. Once he finishes the first pancake though, he feels like he cannot eat another. His stomach is tied in knots for whatever reason.

“You alright there, kid?” It’s a simple question, but one that makes a lump form in his throat. A lump he painfully has to swallow away before giving an answer.

“Yeah sure, just not very hungry today.”

Mr Stark doesn’t say anything to that, he just watches Peter across the table.

“Would you like something else? I could make you some eggs and toast?” Pepper’s smile is slowly vanishing from her face, replaced by something else. Worry? Peter feels even worse than he already does. He doesn’t want to worry her, he barely knows Pepper, but she has always been nice to him. Even Morgan seems to pick up on the changing mood as she puts down her cutlery and looks from her mom to Peter.

“Let’s get some air. Keep those warm for me please, honey.” Mr Stark gestures towards the veranda door.

*

The air is still fresh, no car exhaust fumes, no smell of rotting garbage, just nature; trees and earth. There is not a cloud in sight, the day promises to be warm.

They walk quietly next to each other, Mr Stark looking straight ahead, while Peter bows his head. He doesn’t want to worry anyone, doesn’t want to make a fuss.

“I keep thinking about what you said last night.”

Peter stops dead in his tracks. Mr Stark stops as well, but he doesn’t turn around.

“If you expect me to have any kind of advice up my sleeve for you, I’m sorry to disappoint you. I just want you to know,” at this the older man turns around “that I’m here for you, okay? And whatever this is, we can figure it out together. You’re not alone Peter. We will deal with this together, I will talk to your aunt. Everything will be fine.”

Once more Peter feels like he is some kind of nutcase, the way Mr Stark talks to him, the usual snark gone from his voice.

“I-uhm I’m fine.” The old lie comes back to him, the only thing he can think about.

“You’re not fine Peter, and you know it.” Mr Stark’s hand lands on his shoulder and gives a small squeeze. “But you will be fine, trust me. It may take some time, but you will be. Now let’s get back to those pancakes, I’m starving.”

Peter can only nod, not feeling very reassured.

*

It takes until lunchtime for Peter to be on his own again. As he suspected, the day is getting hotter, the sun not even at its highest point. Pepper and Morgan are in the kitchen preparing lunch, and after a long morning spent playing with Morgan, Peter is happy for some alone time. Mr Stark vanished into his office after breakfast, second mug of coffee in his hand.

Being alone suits him just fine, the pounding in his head has subsided a little and he feels something akin to calm. There is a lone bench overlooking the lake, one he has claimed for himself. There is not a soul insight, no one there to disturb the quiet.

It gives Peter time to think about what Mr Stark said to him, about what he admitted to the older man during the night. When Mr Stark had hugged him, that had felt real. Something he could grasp, but even now he was confused about whether or not things were happening. How was he supposed to tell reality and fantasy apart if even Mr Stark couldn’t tell him how. There was this tiny voice in his mind reminding him that this could very well be an illusion. A small hidden part of him wants it to be. Peter just wants to go back to the way things were before. He wants to get up in the morning in their old apartment, go to school, go on patrol as Spider-Man. He doesn’t want to see the empty streets and downtrodden faces. Even if that final battle has brought him and Mr Stark closer, Peter secretly wishes they had never had to fight Thanos.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Pepper sits down next to him, a plate in her hands. “Not sure if you are hungry, but Morgan made you one of her special sandwiches.”

Peter eyes the sandwich on the plate, his stomach is in knots again, he takes the plate nonetheless.

“She basically puts a lot of mayonnaise on it and as much meat as she can. I think her taste for that comes from her father.”

“Thanks.”

For a while, Pepper just sits there, looking out to the lake. Peter nibbles at the corners of the sandwich. Before he would have wolfed it down within a few minutes and taken another one. The low breeze ruffles his hair. It’s peaceful and quiet, the only sound the breeze in the trees and a faraway bird.

“I remember when Tony came back from space.” Peter stops nibbling at the sandwich. “He looked so thin and frail. Steve was there. And you know what the first thing he said was? I lost the kid.”

She turns to her side, facing him, one of her arms resting on the backrest. Peter feels her gaze on him and reluctantly looks up. A sad look is on her face, a small wistful smile on her lips.

“I lost the kid, Peter. That’s the first thing he said. Tony…he felt responsible for what happened to you. And not out of obligation. I think deep down inside; he really cares for you. For him you are part of the family, even if he will never say any of that out loud.”

She pauses.

“I just want you to know you are part of this family. If there is anything I can do to make you feel better, to help you; you can always talk to me. We haven’t known each other that long, but I can see that there is something depressing you. If you ever need to talk, I’m here for you Peter.”


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

 

He gets the call in the middle of the night. His brain is sluggish from sleep and he keeps forgetting that he only has his left hand now. It’s a minor thing, that changed so much in his life. He sleeps on the other side of the bed now; he cannot cut his food and has to rely on Pepper to do it for him; menial tasks such as dressing take him longer, shaving being another thing Pepper occasionally has to help him with. But he is alive, not alive and well, simply alive and Tony guesses that Pepper would rather have him like this, crippled, rather than dead.

The phone keeps on vibrating next to him, the screen turned down to face the table top so the light won’t disturb them. It’s too late now to worry about disturbing Pepper; she is already stirring next to him in bed. Another moment and Tony’s searching hand finally finds the phone.

“Hello?” he asks, struggling out of bed. With luck Pepper will go back to sleep, keeping the bed warm for him.

“Tony? It’s-“ even before she can continue, Tony knows it’s May Parker calling him. Not a good sign. Worry immediately blossoms in his stomach. “-May. May Parker.”

“Has something happened? Is Peter alright?” It’s the first thing on his mind as he struggles down the staircase, so he can sit quietly in the living room without disturbing his family. Tony tries to stay calm in vain, his heart already threating to beat out of his chest, thoughts racing through his mind.

“I-I honestly don’t know. Something is up, but he won’t talk to me.”

“What do you mean ‘up’?” With a sigh, Tony plops into his armchair. The room is dark around him; he cannot be bothered to fumble with the light switch one handed, and his elbow isn’t that coordinated just yet. “I could see that he looked a little troubled at the barbecue. Things could be catching up with him. A therapist could help with that.”

“Yes. Yes, I have considered a therapist, I just wanted him to have a safe environment first.” May’s voice wobbles; as if she is very close to tears.

“That makes sense. Still, if he has some kind of PTSD a therapist would be best.”

“Of course. It’s just…it’s hard on him, I can see that. It’s worse than the time my husband died.”

Tony has to take a deep breath and calm his thoughts for a moment. Peter did have that troubled look on Sunday, no obvious signs of PTSD, however. Thin and pale, yes, otherwise…Tony remembers all to well what it is like to be haunted by past events, to wake up from nightmares bathed in sweat, to fear enemies around every corner. It was one of the reasons he became Ironman in the first place. He didn’t know Peter back when Ben Parker died, has no idea how whatever this is can be worse than the death of a relative.

“He looked like death today, maybe it was too early to go back to school,” May continues, seemingly having taken a deep breath to compose herself as well.

“I think school is that one piece of normalcy he needs right now. That first time I met him; he was so excited to have -quote- nailed a quiz. School is good for him.”

“You think so? It’s not like him at all-”

“I honestly do. It occupies his mind, doesn’t it? Peter is a bright kid, if he is stuck at home all day, he will be bouncing off your walls in no time.” Tony tries to sound a little cheerful to lift May’s spirits. Even when he can’t get the picture of a pale-faced Peter out of his mind; a Peter that is so unlike himself that it is frightening. “Keep an eye on him and see if anything changes. If he wants to talk, he will talk.”

“Maybe that would be for the best. I will see how he is tomorrow and come back to you about this,” May doesn’t sound quite convinced, however what else is he supposed to say? Peter is…not exactly his kid. He cares for him a great deal, but he cannot make any decisions concerning him. For now, May will have to try and figure this out by herself. If May weren’t in the picture, then of course Peter would be here with him, but she had come back from the Snap and she was his aunt after all, his last remaining relative.

“May, you will let me know if you need any money, okay? Anything you need, you can just ask for it. I owe your family a great deal and-“ May interrupts him before he can even finish the sentence.

“No. Absolutely not. We can manage. I know you feel responsible but-“

“I do. But like I said I owe your family a great deal. If there is anything, just let me know. It doesn’t have to be money. You need someone to keep an eye on Peter for a weekend? Give me a call, we don’t mind having him around.”

“-fine,” May concedes “Thank you. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. Let me know how tomorrow goes, call if you need anything.”

The phone goes quiet on the other end. Tony is left with his thoughts racing, the worry about Peter nagging at him.

*

The first thing on his mind when Tony wakes up is Peter. It happened before. Those first few days after the Snap, the image of a dissolving Peter kept playing on his mind. Then after the battle, when his thoughts had become more coherent, he had though about the kid as well. Once he knew that he would be alright, his thoughts has stopped though. Peter had been alive and as well as could be expected; a few scars and bruises, nothing that would last.

Tony had thought that Peter would be fine on his own, back in his old life. It seems like he had been very wrong. As soon as he comes into the kitchen, Pepper throws him that ‘we have to talk look’ that she can do so well. He wordlessly takes his mug of coffee and sits down next to Morgan who is  halfway through a blueberry pancake.

Pepper puts a plate of cut up pancake in front of him and takes her place next to Morgan. They eat breakfast quietly, their daughter no doubt picking up on the underlying tension between them. Once they have finished breakfast, Morgan slides out of her chair and vanishes outside. She will be fine on her own here, there is no cars here that could run her over, no bad people who would snatch her.

“Who called you last night?”

“May Parker.” It’s best to come out with the truth immediately.

“Oh?”

“She is worried about Peter. He has not been himself.” And she is not alone in her worry, Tony himself couldn’t shake the thought that something was going on with the teenager.

“He didn’t look that good at the barbecue. Does May know what’s going on?”

“That’s it, kid won’t talk about it. Keeps saying he is fine.”

Pepper stares into her cup of tea for a long moment, as if it could hold the answer to the question. “Maybe he will talk to you.”

Tony flinches inwardly. The relationship between him and Peter…he doesn’t know how to define it. Mentor? Something like that. He is reminded of the picture of him and Peter holding the Stark Internship Certificate. That one picture that made him decide to try one last time to save humanity.

“Tony, listen, whatever is going on with Peter, I’m sure he would appreciate being able to talk to someone who is, well, in a similar profession.” She didn’t say it, nevertheless he knew what she meant. Someone who fought evil in a suit on a daily basis. Even if those days were over for him now with his paralyzed arm.

“I told May to keep in touch.”

“That was good of you. If Peter doesn’t get better, you could try reaching out to him.” Pepper reaches across the table and grabs his left hand, their fingers locking. He doesn’t deserve her.

*

Instead of doing the important paperwork for Stark Industries, still at the top of inventing new technologies, Tony googles PTSD.

The more he reads about it, the more he realises that he has had more than one incident that clearly points to his own behaviour, his own struggles with PTSD. The flashbacks and nightmares. And the way he dealt with it, mostly through alcohol. He hasn’t had a drink in years, will never pick one up again no matter the situation. He doubts that Peter would take up alcohol or drugs no matter what, the kid was far too innocent for that. If he had PTSD at all. May really needed to get him to talk or try to get him a good therapist.

If it’s one thing Tony can do – even if May doesn’t want it – is pay for any hospital bills, doctor’s or therapist’s appointments. She probably is not big on money right now, wasn’t before and Tony knows how ridiculously expensive health care in the US is. He’s already paid for Peter’s two week stay at the hospital after they fought Thanos. May of course, doesn’t know about this yet, she is probably still waiting on that first bill to arrive.

Maybe Tony could find a therapist for Peter, one that specialises in teens, or military? Both? If the person was trustworthy, then money didn’t matter. Not that it had ever mattered before.

*

They’re snuggled up on the couch, Pepper leaning on his good side, his arm around her shoulders. Morgan has been put to bed a few hours ago, their little angel deeply asleep. The evenings are still chilly, so Pepper built a fire in the fireplace, got them both some hot milk and a few cookies. Usually his wife enjoys sitting in front of the fireplace with  a good book and a glass of white wine, but whenever they are together, she doesn’t drink. Not that Tony is never tempted; he is done with alcoholic beverages for good. For Morgan’s sake.

“I’ve been thinking,” Pepper breaks the silence. “Do you wonder if Morgan feels lonely sometimes?”

“Lonely? She has us!” Tony replies indignantly. Pepper shifts, turning towards him. Tony does the same so they can look at each other.

“She does, but Tony, think about it, think about how close you were…” she doesn’t want to say it, but he understand her perfectly. _How close you were to death_. “Remember when your parents died, you are an only child, what would happen to Morgan if we die? Will she have the same troubles you faced?”

And he can see it, flashing in front of his eyes, his sweet girl drinking, partying, risking her life. Doing everything to forget her parents, to not mourn them for the rest of her life. She is still young, has her whole life ahead of her. What would have happened if he had died during the Final Battle?

“Hey, I’m sorry. It’s too early to talk about this-“

“What do you mean with _this_? Do you want to remind me that risking my neck to save this world for our daughter was a stupid decision?” His voice takes on a bitter note, and he knows it by the way Pepper pulls back, away from him.

“Tony-“

His phone starts ringing on the side table.

“I have to take that.” Tony grabs his phone and leaves the room, completely ignoring the look on Pepper’s face. He doesn’t even look as he accept the call, simply presses the phone to his ear and says ‘hello’.

“Tony? This is May Parker.” A pause. “I-I just don’t know what to do.” May keeps on garbling, her words making no sense at all. Tony’s heart speeds up in his chest. Did something happen to Peter? Is he hurt?

“Hold on, hold on, I don’t understand what’s going on!?” He wants to scream in the phone, needs to know if Peter is alright.

“Peter…” May’s voice sounds close to tears. “He was screaming and thrashing in his sleep when I came home. I’ve never heard him scream like that before…And the worst thing is he didn’t wake up, no matter what I did. He just kept on screaming and thrashing.” A sob escapes her on the other end of the line.

“Is he awake now? Is he okay?” Tony’s racing heart slowly calms. Peter is okay, or at least not in life threatening danger.

“I had to slap him to wake up,” guilt laces May’s voice.

“But is he okay now?”

“Yes, he went back to sleep. I told him to talk to me, but he just won’t. If he’s like this, how am I supposed to leave him alone during the weekend? What if something happens to him while he is asleep and dreaming like this.”

“It was probably just a bad dream; I had those too. They will go away with time. As soon as Peter opens up to you-“

“I doubt he will. He always has, but it’s different this time. If he doesn’t talk to me, then I doubt he will talk to a therapist. I just…I don’t want him to hurt, but I can see he is hurting. I’m scared of what he will do if he is alone… I see it all the time at the hospital with kids his age.”

Tony knows what May is implying, he used to be one of those kids as well. The ones that try to drown their emotions in alcohol, drugs or inflicting pain on their bodies.

“He’s never really alone, is he? I’ve been looking up therapists. Even if he doesn’t want to, he has to go, okay? I don’t care how he gets into that therapist’s office as long as he gets there. I will send you a list of names and you can go through them, okay?”

“Thank you,” a sniffle “I just don’t want to leave him alone when I have a 24hrs shift…”

“You don’t have to. Peter is always welcome here, as are you.”

“I-I know, but we simply cannot impose-“

“Look May, when’s your next 24hrs shift? We will take Peter, he will be fine. He is clever enough to miss a couple days of school.”

“It’s this weekend…”

That was earlier than Tony expected, but now that he has made the offer, he doesn’t want to back down from it.

“Alright. Pepper has a meeting in New York around noon, she can pick Peter up from school.”

“Are you sure? I really-“

“Yep, completely sure.”

They keep talking for a few more minutes on the phone, Tony trying to reassure May as best as he can. It’s not his strong suit, but the woman sounds better when they finally end the call.

Now he only has to explain to Pepper why they will have a teenager hanging around their house for the whole weekend.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

 

Morgan kept him occupied the rest of the day. She showed him her playhouse, her toys and all the games she possesses. Peter would have expected her to have more, but overall, she doesn’t seem to be a spoiled child. She is always willing to share with him, always happy to let him choose a toy first. If all kids were like her, Peter thinks, then dicks like Flash wouldn’t exist and the world would possibly be a better place. Even with how much Flash is a dick to him, Peter wouldn’t want him to have vanished during the Snap and never returned. Yeah, he could have done with Flash not vanishing, growing five years and already having graduated, but that’s not the case.

Peter is once more reminded of Flash as he sits at the kitchen table, trying to cram his head with facts about the Spanish Inquisition while Morgan sits opposite him, drawing and eating ice cream. There is no sign of the adults, the house is completely quiet.

His head hurts from staring at his decathlon book, however, no matter what he does, Peter feels like he cannot remember one single fact. Was Queen Isabell depicted in the church of Santa María la Mayor or was it the Cathedral of Salamanca? And which cities had Jewish population again? Barcelona, Madrid and Pamplona? All of the facts seem to mash in his head, making no sense at all. He knows the answer; he knows that he does. Then why won’t it come to him?

“You okay there bud? Spanish Inquisition, huh? History?”

“No, decathlon,” he mutters without looking up. The only thing Peter wants to do is put his head in his hands and fall asleep. And then maybe wake up with all the answers back in his head.

“You’re still doing that?” Tony sounds surprised as he walks around the table and tries to see what Morgan is drawing. Only that his daughter shrieks and puts her arm over the piece of paper.

“Daddy no!”

“Alright, I won’t look. Anyone want some juice? Water?”

“Juice!” Morgan shuts at the same time Peter says: “No thank you.”

With the older man turning his back on them, Peter goes back to his decathlon book. _Where and when was the first sodomite burned during the Spanish Inquisition?_ He does know this one; Valencia in 15…was it 1583? No, that’s not right. 1578? That doesn’t sound quite right either…

“Here, have some juice yourself. How about a break kid? Or do you want me to quiz you?” Mr Stark sits down at the table next to him.

“Thanks, I can manage.” Mr Stark only raises an eyebrow. Yeah, okay, Peter knows he needs some help, but how can the older man help him if he knows none of the answers.

“Whatever you say buddy.” Instead of bugging him, Mr Stark grabs a sheet of blank paper and starts drawing.

Silence descends over the table.

At one point, Peter gets into the flow of things and starts to remember some of the answers to the test book questions. It may take him a long time, several seconds that could cost his team to lose during a real decathlon match, but at least he remembers something.

*

During dinner Peter’s head is pounding, Spanish vocabulary floating inside next to historical facts. Pepper has outdone herself with a shepherd’s pie, it’s so good that it even has a little flavour for Peter. Still, he cannot enjoy the meal. It’s Sunday tomorrow and Aunt May will pick him up in the afternoon. Then it will be Monday and he will have decathlon practice again, only that Peter doesn’t feel in the least prepared to face MJ’s questioning again. She drives them harder than Liz ever did, asking question after question and giving biting remarks and comments whenever she is dissatisfied. Peter doesn’t see the girl he once liked in her anymore, then again, he doesn’t feel the same about himself either.

“Will you come back to play Pete?” It’s Morgan’s innocent question that makes him come back to reality.

“P-Play?”

Mr Stark can surely see the look on his face as he quickly interjects: “Not now sweetie.”

Morgan is about to talk back to her father when he shoots her a look. Peter feels his stomach sink. He was surprised to be asked by Morgan to come back and play. However, his thoughts about being an intruder into the Stark Family’s home life are still present.

He finishes his dinner quietly, and despite the early hour, claims to want to do more reading in bed. No one stops him as he slinks upstairs, his backpack slung over his shoulder.

*

Peter lies on his back, watching the shadows of the trees dance on his ceiling. It’s near to midnight, his eyes and head hurt, but sleep is eluding him. For a few minutes, he is tempted to message Ned. More than once he starts typing and then immediately deletes the few words he has managed to type. It’s pointless. He just doesn’t know what to say to his best friend. He can already see it in his future, Ned gone away to college, making a ton of new friends and forgetting about him. Which is just what Peter had feared that first day back at school; that five years had gone by without him and Ned had grown up and moved on.

There is a knock on the door and even as Peter turns his head around, the door was already opened, and Mr Stark comes inside.

“Still up kiddo?”

“Yeah.”

“Scoot over.”

Reluctantly Peter moves up against the headboard, so that Mr Stark can sit on the bed.

“I’ve been talking to your Aunt.”

“Uhm okay.” There it is again, that familiar feeling of dread. Shouldn’t he be used to it by now?

“She thinks it’s for the best if you see a therapist, and I agree. That outbreak yesterday? Not good. And I don’t need to tell you that you look like crap, cos you know that. So, what I want you to do, is just be open about this, okay? We’re going to find you a damn good therapist to help you.”

Peter isn’t sure what he is supposed to say now. Thank you? Thank you for making me an official nutcase? What does one say in these situations?

“Oh, and before I forget it: you don’t get a choice kid. Now give me your phone, lights out now.”

Peter hands his phone over quietly without a fuss. Mr Stark leaves quietly, the door closing behind him softly.

*

For once it was an okay night. A few hours of quality sleep, another hour of nightmares. Overall, Peter feels rested when he hears the knock on his door, followed by “breakfast is ready”. He gets out of bed, follows his morning routine and is downstairs in the kitchen within fifteen minutes.

Like they discussed the day before, it’s apple and cinnamon waffles today. As soon as the sweet smell of cinnamon hits his nose, Peter can hear his stomach rumble. It hasn’t done this for quite a while.

“Good morning,” he greets timidly, whereas Morgan throws him an exuberant smile.

“Pete look! Mommy made cinnamon pancakes with apples.”

“Have a seat Peter. Juice or milk? And don’t tell me water is fine.” Pepper throws him a smile and Peter can see where Morgan gets it from.

“Juice then.”

A plate and glass are put before him with another smile from Pepper. Although he feels funny, an emotion he cannot quite place yet, he accepts breakfast and even manages to talk to Morgan for a little bit.

Once again Mr Stark turns up half way through breakfast with his coffee mug in hand. Is the man working this early in the morning?

“You done with that?” Mr Stark raises an eyebrow at his half-finished pancake. “If you are let’s have a little talk in my office.”

Peter was finished a moment before, and now he wishes he could go on and on eating pancakes forever. Because he can already tell that the talk is not going to be pleasant for him, not in the least.

*

“Take a seat, I’m not going to bite your head off.”

Peter reluctantly sits down in the armchair in front of the desk, the pancakes already churning in his stomach. He frantically tries to think of something he could have done to deserve this talk, but nothing comes to mind. Is it about the whole therapist thing?

“I was able to catch your aunt last night during her shift. We have agreed on a therapist for you to see, someone who was personally recommended to me. I will make an appointment for you on Monday. The only thing you have to do is show up.”

He fingers the hem of his shirt, picking at a loose threat.

“What if I don’t uhm- want to go?”

“Well you get no choice in the matter. Especially considering that you are still a minor. Would you think it a bad thing to go see a therapist? You can’t honestly tell me that you think you are fine.” Mr Stark leans a little forward from where he is stood, hip cocked against the desk. “Tell me kiddo, what it is you fear about talking to someone?”

It’s not exactly that Peter fears talking to someone. It’s more the fear of sounding silly or of having his nightmares come true. What if this wasn’t reality. Maybe he was trapped in the Matrix like that Neo guy in this really old movie.

“Hey, come on. You need to talk to someone, okay? You talked to me a little, so it cannot be so hard to talk to someone else.” It’s supposed to sound reassuring, but all Peter can think of is that Mr Stark is not a stranger like whoever the therapist is going to be. A complete stranger who will listen to all his deepest fears and judge him  based on them. If there is any way out of going, Peter would have to hurry and find it.

“Peter. Look at me.”

Reluctantly he lifts his eyes from his lap to look at Mr Stark. The burnt skin is looking better, although one can see that movement on that side of the face is limited.

“You will feel better, trust me on this. It’s not a bad thing talking to a specialist.”

*

Aunt May comes around in the afternoon, looking a little less stressed despite the long shift she pulled during the weekend. Pepper greets her with a hug and a kiss to the cheek, Morgan with a hug of her own. When it’s Peter’s turn, he cannot help but inhale the familiar smell of his aunt. That smell of home and family.

Mr Stark comes out of his office to greet her, having spend most of the day in there after their little talk in the morning.

“Thank you for having Peter during the weekend.”

It sounds as if Peter is still a small child as they say their goodbyes after an early dinner. It will take them at least ninety minutes to get back to New York, longer depending on traffic. And there is school to think of. Not that Peter got much work done. Morgan took up a lot of his time, which was fine, but he really should have done more for decathlon. He was still none the wiser on what the Alhambra Decree did. Surely, MJ would ask that exact question during their next training session. Well, Peter still had the drive back to Queens to study.

“Thanks for having me-,” Morgan already hugs Peter’s knee, her small arms tightening on his leg.

“Come back to play soon!”

“Morgan, honey, Peter has school to go to, he can’t just drop by to play with you.” Pepper smiles and gives Peter her own quick hug. “Don’t be a stranger.”

When Morgan finally let’s go of his leg, it’s Mr Stark who puts his hand on his shoulder. “It will be alright, kiddo.”

And Peter wants to believe it. He really does.

He just can’t.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

 

“I need details.” Ned slides into the seat next to him. It’s the first time Peter sees him today as he was slightly late for school -  a delay on the train – and they don’t share all of their classes. Ned has biology first period while Peter has English. It’s the only class they do not share and before it was fine for Peter to not have a class with his friend, now however, it feels weird. As if whenever he is not seeing someone close to him, the risk of them simply vanishing multiplies.

It’s probably stupid.

Peter knows that. He just can’t stop feeling that way.

Aunt May broke right into it the day before. And there was no way Peter could flee to his room as they were still in the car on their way home. Except if he opened the door and jumped out of the car like James Bond frequently does in the movies. That stupid therapist came up again, well, maybe not stupid. If you want to be a therapist, you have to get a degree. Still, Peter is not keen at all to go and see one. May basically explained everything again the day before. How she decided it’s for the best, that she just wants to make sure he is fine. And that Mr Stark had made a recommendation and would book an appointment for him. Peter had seen the concern in her eyes. And there is this tiny bit inside of him that makes him feel like he has failed at convincing her that he is fine. Everyone else seemed to be fooled by his smiles. He couldn’t have been that bad. If there is one thing Peter doesn’t want to do it’s making people worry, especially about him.

So, when Ned asks him about his weekend, Peter is prepared to give him the answer he is waiting for.

“It was great. You know he has this cabin upstate and there is a lake you can go swimming in. Not that I did, it’s way too cold for that, but you can. And it’s really quiet there so I did a lot for decathlon-“

“Did he show you any new inventions? Something he is working on?”

And with that Peter doesn’t know what to say anymore. If he says no, then Ned will be disappointed. Of course, there is a valid reason Mr Stark isn’t tinkering with anything, he is still recuperating. Then again, is Peter allowed to talk about the man so freely? What if someone overheard and it was not his place at all?

“What’s up losers. Don’t disappoint me at decathlon today.” MJ sits down in the row in front of them, unusual for her as she likes sitting in the back of the classroom.

Before either of them can say anything in response, the bell rings and their math teacher enters.

*

It’s during their lunch break that Peter gets a text from May. He makes sure to check his phone and not forget like he did last Friday.

_12:14 got an appointment with the therapist for today, meet you there!_

Followed by another text with directions.

The appointment is in the middle of decathlon practice. Which means he won’t be able to make it. Which means MJ will be pissed. Which also means I will have to do more studying about the Spanish Inquisition tonight. And Peter now needs to find a way to tell MJ he won’t be there. He doesn’t really want to say straight out what is going on. Especially not with Ned next to him. Or everyone else in the cafeteria possibly listening in. Everyone at this school is so nosy.

Peter can feel a tremor start in his hands. Before anyone can see, he casually slips his phone into his jeans pocket and keeps his hand in his lap.

“You still haven’t told me about your weekend. I bet you worked on something super cool and top secret, right?” Ned will not stop pestering him about his weekend stay at Mr Stark’s. There is more pressing matters than to satisfy his friend’s curiosity. How is Peter supposed to tell MJ he won’t be at practice today?

Especially when MJ is right now sitting down at his table, right in front of him.

“I hope you’re ready to be quizzed about the Spanish Inquisition. If one of you messes up the popes again, I swear- You okay Peter?”

It’s seldom that she calls him Peter. It’s usually Parker, or Loser. Never Peter though.

“U-uhm yeah, I’m fine.”

“You look like someone stole your popsicle.” Peter throws a nervous glance in Ned’s direction who is staring at him intently. Before he can open his mouth to say something, his friend chips in: “You do look a little pale, are you ok?”

“Totally fine. Totally ok. Why wouldn’t I be?” A nervous laugh makes its way up his throat. His hands shake a little stronger underneath the table top.

“Don’t you go and pull a sick-o on me. I need everyone in shape for practice later.” And that’s it. That’s how MJ gives him the perfect excuse to miss practice later without disclosing that he is about to see a therapist.

“It’s just a headache. I’m sure it will pass.”

MJ just groans.

*

_15:24 Sorry, won’t be able to make it to decathlon, head is killing me_

_15:25 That sucks, dude. Get well soon, see you tomoz_

Peter stares at Ned’s reply. Wondering how he can just straight out lie to his friend without feeling bad. He guesses that that’s how the bad guys get made. They all start out with a little lie here and there and then…poof! Blow up the universe.

It’s another ten minutes before Peter arrives at the station Aunt May told him to meet up for the appointment. Another ten minutes of trying to get his hands to stop shaking and to compose himself. He needs to look normal. No, he doesn’t need to look normal, because he is normal. Somewhere he has read that one only has to think of being something and it will happen. Therefore, if Peter thinks he is normal, he will be normal.

The train comes to a squeaking stop, it’s the stop he has to get out at. He’s never been in this part of the city before. Not that he remembers at least. The station is as rundown as they all seem to are these days. Maintenance was on hold for some time, and only now the damage is slowly being repaired. People have changed though, and there are not many willing to go back to their old jobs.

May is already waiting for him outside the station. She has gotten changed from her uniform into her casual clothing after work as she holds a carrier bag in one hand.

“How was school sweetie?” She gives him a hug and kisses his cheek in greeting.

“Fine. I’m missing decathlon right now.” Peter doesn’t know why he adds the last part. Does he want to make his aunt feel bad? Is he actually angry for not going? It’s hard to tell when your stomach is in knots at the prospect of going to talk to a therapist.

“I’m sorry, but this is important Peter.” She snatches a glance on her watch. “We shouldn’t be late.”

Right.

He tries to steal himself.

_I am normal._

*

The waiting area looks like a living room, not like the modern and cold place Peter has expected. The furniture is a mix of different woods and colours, the couches littered with pillows. There is a bunch of old magazines on a coffee table that Aunt May perused before they had been called into the therapist’s office.

Inside it was much the same, the furniture not really fitting. There was a desk, two couches and one wall full of bookcases.

The therapist is a forty something woman, hair cut short and wearing a plain dress. She is also in her slippers instead of shoes. While she introduces herself and bids them to have a seat, Peter can’t help but stare at the shelved books. His stomach is in knots as usual, and he tries to calm down by reading the titles. Most of the books seem to be about psychology, others are about teenagers specifically.

“Peter? Can I call you Peter?”

“Peter?” Aunt May touches his shoulder softly.

“Uhm yeah. Sorry. You have a lot of books.”

The therapist throws him a smile. What was her name again?

“I just said that I would like to have a word with you alone first. Then with your aunt and then with the both of you together. If that’s alright with you?”

“Sure. Yeah, no problem.”

May squeezes his shoulder once before leaving the office.

Somehow being alone with the therapist makes everything even worse. If only Peter had a glass of water, he could clutch and drink from. His throat feels bone dry.

“Do you like to read Peter?”

“I don’t mind…”

“Any particular books you like? A favourite author?”

He fiddles with the hem of his shirt, the question unexpected. “Not really. I mostly read for school right now.” The thing is, Peter loved to read comic books before. However, now there is no money to buy any and little time to do anything besides studying. MIT is waiting for him after all.

“What are you reading in school then?”

“Nothing this year. Next year is probably going to be Catcher in the Rye. But it’s not definite yet.”

“Do you like going to school?” The woman looks at him from across the coffee table that stand between the two couches. As a therapist, shouldn’t she have a note pad to write down everything he says?

“Yeah. School is good.”

“Come on Peter, tell me a little more about yourself. What’s your favourite subject? Any after school activities? Any girls?” Her smile broadens.

Peter can feel his stomach lurch. Act normal, be normal.

“I like science classes, math or physics.” He clears his throat. Should he try to sound more excited about school? “I usually have decathlon right now; that is academic decathlon. We just got the practice books for next year. The topic is the Spanish Inquisition.”

“Spanish Inquisition, huh? Tough subject…”

*

It’s been thirty minutes since Aunt May went into the therapist’s office and left Peter in the waiting room. There is a girl around his age lazily flicking through one of the magazines. She doesn’t seem to be bothered to be seen at a therapist. Peter  looked at her for a moment and then tried to think of something else to calm his frayed nerves. His hand shakes when he tries to pick up one of the magazines, so he stops and instead sits on his hand. All the while watching the girl from the corner of his eye. He doesn’t want to look weird to her.

“Peter? You can come back inside now.” The therapist pokes her head around the door and throws him a smile. How can everyone be smiling all the time while he…while he has to force himself to lift the corners of his mouth?

Aunt May is on the couch, her face relaxed as if a great burden was already lifted from her shoulders. Did he do that to her? Another smile from her as he sits down next to her.

“So, I had a little chat with the both of you,” the therapists starts while she settles on the opposite couch. One of her slippers coming loose as she lifts her legs to cross them. “From what I can say by talking to you Peter is that I get a lot of negative emotions from you. Insecurity, the usual teenage angst, these kind of things. From what May has told me, also considering your background and the information supplied to me by…your benefactor, I don’t want to diagnose anything right now. However, I would like to see you maybe once a week? Once every two weeks? If you are up for this Peter, it’s all your choice.”

Peter can feel both pairs of eyes staring at him expectantly. And that’s the thing, isn’t it? It’s not exactly his choice at all. Deep inside the thought of having to talk to that woman – what’s her name – makes him nervous, uncomfortable. If there is one thing he doesn’t want to do, it’s sitting in this woman’s office and talk to her. She is a stranger, a complete stranger. How is she supposed to know what is going on with him? Does she see everyone vanish or die all the time as well?

*

“I’m really proud of you Peter.”

Peter sits at his desk; Spanish book open in front of him and trying to remember new vocabulary. He’s left the door open, concentrating so hard that he didn’t hear May come in.

“Huh?” he turns around in his chair, facing his Aunt who is leaning against the door frame.

“I’m proud of you for agreeing to see Ms Taylor. It’s the first step in the right direction.” As if he had any other choice. When both had been staring at him, what else was he supposed to say but yes?

“You will see, everything will be better soon.” She crosses the distance between the two of them and kisses the top of his head like she used to do when he was a small kid.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen:

 

“How does it feel? To have all this power? To hold the lives of so many people in your hands?” the deep voice resonates in his head. Something is wrong, his body feels so heavy, yet Peter cannot pin down what it is. He sees the sky above him, hears the noise of battle around him. Sparks fly in the air, grunts of pain somewhere close by. He lies there, motionless. What is he waiting for?

“You can do it, you know? Just lift your arm, move your fingers. It only takes a second, you won’t even notice.”

Peter tries to move and manages to roll to his side. It then becomes apparent why his body feels so heavy, there on his right arm is the gauntlet. How did it get there? Peter can’t remember putting it on. He remembers moving around, flying through the air and then… everything went black. Was it possible that he fell on the gauntlet? Not really. But how come it now sits on his arm, snugly, as if it never wants to be taken off?

“All that power in your hands. Don’t you want to try it? Use it? For once you are the one with the power.”

“Come on Penis! What are you afraid of now?!” the voice is taunting and all to familiar. And there he is, Flash. Standing in the middle of the battlefield, not a hair moving from his perfect hairstyle as someone goes tumbling by. “You have humanity’s fate in your hands, and you think lying around is the best course of action? Just move your damn fingers and-“ Flash snaps with his right hand. Nothing happens.

“He is not worthy. But you, you are.” Peter still doesn’t know where the voice is coming from. Is it from inside his head? Is he the only one who can hear it?

There is one thing for sure, he needs to take of the gauntlet as soon as possible and destroy it.

“Penis Parker afraid more than ever.” Flash takes a step towards him, then another. His shadow falling onto Peter. “You take the thumb and the middle finger. It’s easy. Just do it.” He snaps again. Snaps with every step he takes towards Peter until he towers above him.

The thing is, Peter knows that he has to move, knows that he has to take the gauntlet off; he just can’t. Whatever power is holding him back, also makes him unable to move.

“Let me show you how to do it.”

“A normal human has more strength than you? Are you not ashamed?” the deep voice resonates inside his head as Flash leans down and swiftly pulls the gauntlet off his arm.

“No! Don’t!” For the first time Peter is able to say something. Flash cannot put the gauntlet on, under no circumstances.

But it is too late.

“I will show you how to do it once Penis.” The gold glints as Flash pulls the gauntlet over his arm and then raises it and-

“No!” Peter sits up, struggling with the blanket for a moment. There is sunlight coming in through the window, another beautiful day outside. It sounds like early morning, the streets yet empty but soon to fill up with people and cars. While he tries to catch his breath and calm his racing heart, Peter listens for movements, any movements May could make to indicate that she is up and heard him. He’s been going to the therapist for two weeks, and while she claims that he makes able progress, Peter always feels bad when he leaves her office. Not because she actually helps him and he realizes anything about himself, no, simply because he keeps lying to her. Over and over and over. She told him to write a dream diary. And he did, kinda. There is dreams in there, weird dreams from which some parts are true, but most of the things he makes up. He’s never had a dream in his life where is eating a banana split with his dead uncle. That’s simply made up. And if there is one thing Peter doesn’t do, it’s write down his nightly bad dreams, the ones he keeps having every single day, no matter what.

There is a part of him that feels bad for lying to the therapist. And then there is the other part that doesn’t really care, that just wants to get through high school, get into MIT, be worthy of something. Because that was kind of his plan from the beginning, even before, he wanted to go to a good school and make May proud. If only things were easy now.

*

“- depicts the Spanish Inquisition in its later years? Peter?”

It takes him a moment to realize that MJ is speaking to him. Sure, he is the only Peter on the decathlon team, but still, it’s hard to pay attention when you can’t stop sneaking glances at someone else. This someone else being Flash. His dream that night had been so vivid, as if Flash really had been there, had been wearing the gauntlet and-

“Should I repeat the question? The painting _Inquisition Scene_ by which Spanish painter depicts the Spanish Inquisition in its later years?”

“It’s Goya,” Ned mumbles from next to him. He’s not quiet enough for MJ not to hear.

“I asked Peter and not you Ned, but thanks for telling him the right answer. Again.” Ned ducks and looks sheepish for a moment after being admonished. Same as Peter feels. He keeps spacing out and missing things. He should really get a hang of the Spanish Inquisition, after summer holidays they will have their first decathlon matches. “Next one…”

“You sure you’re okay? You keep spacing out today,” Ned leans over, his voice reduced at last so no one can overhear.

“Yeah, just thinking about stuff…”

“You used to ace decathlon and now…do you want to study later? Or we could take apart one of my lego sets to assemble it again?”

“Would love to, but I have to go somewhere after school.”

Ned nods as if he knows that Peter has to go and see the therapist, even when he has told no one about his appointments twice a week. Only one more appointment and it’s time for the weekend. Then he won’t have to worry about school for two days and the therapist for three days.

*

There is a boy in the waiting room, maybe a few years younger. He wears glasses, has a freckled nose and keeps chewing on his finger nails. Peter watches him for a long moment, until the boy looks up and turns his back upon him. There is nothing else to do but wait. He really doesn’t want to pick up one of the old magazines, probably read by at least two dozen people before him. There are no pictures on the walls, the windows have curtains…nothing to engage his mind. He can’t be bothered to take out one of his books and do school work. He will do the assignments later, at home, where he has peace and quiet. The other boy keeps sucking and chewing his nails noisily.

Finally, the door to the therapist’s office opens – Peter cannot remember her name no matter how many times he repeats it in his head – and a girl steps out.

“Thank you, Stella, see you in two weeks.” The girl throws the therapist a lukewarm smile and hurries out of the waiting area. “Come on Peter.”

Inwardly Peter sighs, he really doesn’t want to go in there and talk about things. Reluctantly, he picks up his backpack and enters the office, the door closing behind him softly.

“Do you want anything to drink? A glass of water?”

“I’m good thanks,” he manages a smile, one that even to him feels honest.

“How was school today Peter?”

By now he knows what’s going on; first she will casually start talking to him, to get him comfortable most likely, then she will start digging into his ‘feelings’ and ‘trauma’. Words that Peter would have never used on himself the way she does.

“We played dodgeball during gym which was nice.” If there is one thing he hates, it’s gym. Ever since Peter got his powers, his body is better than ever before, sadly he can’t show his new won strength in front of anyone. So, when they picked teams today during gym and he was one of the last ones to be chosen, Peter was glad, because it meant that no one was suspecting anything. Not that there was much to suspect in the first place, Spider-Man was something in the past now. Something Peter didn’t want to think about too much.

“Do you like gym?”

“It’s not too bad.”

“Tell me, when it comes to your subjects which one do you like least?”

“Uhm,” he thinks for a moment. There is no class he actually dislikes; they are all pretty equal in his books. Even when he feels like he is failing half of them at the moment. He simply can’t remember what he used to be able to remember. His brain seems to be working slower than it did before. For whatever reason, Peter doesn’t know. “I kind of like all of them.”

“Really?” the therapist raises an unbelieving eyebrow. “All of them? I usually have patients tell me they hate math or gym; and here you are liking all of them?”

“Yes.”

He can see that the cogs are turning in her head, she will get this pensive look as if she is making a note to herself in her mind.

“Alright. I will trust you on this. Now…”

*

“ _Tengo, tienes, tiene, temenos_ -“ a soft knock interrupts Peter in the middle of his Spanish homework. Well, more like his desperate try to remember how to conjugate Spanish verbs.

“Yes?”

Aunt May slowly creaks his door open, as if he didn’t know it was her.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt your studying. Can I come in for a moment?”

“Yeah sure.”

She opens the door fully and sits down on his bed; immaculately made ever since he was released from the hospital.

“So, I have kind off bad news. Lori’s daughter has come down with pneumonia and she had to take the weekend off. I was the only one who could take over her shift.”

“Okay?” Peter doesn’t know what the sickness of one of May’s colleagues has to do with him.

“That means I won’t be here the whole weekend.” An apologetic look crosses May’s face.

“I don’t mind staying here alone.” Peter truly wouldn’t mind. He could do with some time to focus on decathlon and homework and doing extra credit work to save some of his slipping grades.

“Well, I do. I discussed this with Ms Taylor just now-“ was that the name of the therapist? “and she has agreed that it might be best if you are under supervision. Not because she thinks that anything is wrong with you or that you are suici-“ May stops herself before she can say it. Still, Peter knows what she was about to say. And no; he is not suicidal.

“Anyways,” May takes a deep breath as if she has to steel herself for what’s to come. “I called Tony and he’s agreed that you can stay with them again.”

“Oh.”

“Peter, sweetie, I hope you don’t mind, but…I really don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone right now and you know that Tony has offered to have you over and Morgan is going to be so thrilled…”

“Yeah, okay.” Suddenly, there is a lump in his throat, one Peter doesn’t know why it got there.

 


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

 

“Peter!” Morgan’s voice is the first thing he hears as he opens the car door. Pepper has been waiting outside of the car in the school’s parking lot, for once not dressed in that casual business look, she usually wears. In her blue jeans and t-shirt, she looks like any other American mom, totally inconspicuous. She greets him with a warm hug and her usual smile, then opens the car door for him.

What Peter didn’t expect was Morgan parked on the backseat. She looks more than thrilled to see him.

“Hey Morgan, how’s it going?”

“Will you play with me again? We can build a tepee in the forest if you like!”

“Morgan, I told you not to ambush Peter that way, okay? I’m sure he has to do his homework first and then we will see if he wants to play with you.”

The smile on Morgan’s face lessens and her excitement seems to dim. Peter hates to see her like this.

“Uhm, it’s okay Pepper, I don’t mind. Building a tepee in the forest, yeah?” he turns in his seat to look at Morgan whose smile brightens immediately.

While Pepper moves smoothly into New York’s Friday afternoon rush hour traffic, Morgan chats about what she’s been doing all week. Being the bright little girl she is, Peter is not exactly surprised to hear that she can read and write already. Having a genius as a father does that, he reckons. It’s not the first time Peter secretly wonders what it would have been like to have Tony as a father.

*

Somehow the guest bedroom looks different, alas Peter is unable to tell what it is exactly that makes it different. It still seems the same as it did last time he was here. Then again, it also feels different. Peter drops the overnight bag he packed the day before and brought to school on the bed, same as his backpack and goes straight back downstairs. He cannot be bothered to get any of his stuff out, and he doesn’t want to think about homework and studying just yet. Also, he feels it would be incredibly rude to just vanish upstairs and not help with preparing dinner. Even when he has no idea about cooking whatsoever.

To his surprise Mr Stark is in the kitchen, leaning casually against the counter. He wasn’t there when they arrived about half an hour ago.

“Hey kid, how’s it going?”

“G-Good.” It’s always like this at first. Peter doesn’t know why he feels nervous whenever he sees Mr Stark, then the nervous feeling will vanish and be replaced by something else. What exactly, Peter doesn’t know how to describe.

“You wanna spend some time in the workshop with me this weekend?” It’s one of those raised eyebrow questions. Before he can reply, though, Pepper interjects. “Tony, you’re as bad as Morgan! Let Peter have some peace and quiet over the weekend!”

Morgan looks up from where she is busy carefully cutting vegetables. Should children her age even be holding knives?

“Uhm it’s okay…I don’t mind…”

“Peter, don’t worry, you can do whatever you want during the weekend. Don’t feel like you have to do anything here, okay? Now I don’t want any more of this, let’s get this lasagne done and into the oven.”

*

Morgan cuddles into his side, deep asleep.

It’s nearly ten and she dropped off about twenty minutes ago. Peter didn’t dare move in these twenty minutes, even though he really needs to go to the restroom. At the other end of the couch, Pepper is engrossed in the movie they had started watching after dinner while Mr Stark sits in the armchair, busy with his phone. He is typing away quickly with his left hand, not even looking up at the TV screen. Whatever he does, it must be important. Peter hasn’t paid any attention to the movie either, it’s too...well,  it’s not a bad movie, it just doesn’t really interest him and somehow his thoughts keep slipping away, unable to focus. Ten is usually the time he goes to bed, tries to fall asleep for an hour or two and then when he finally does, is plagued by nightmares.

Peter keeps thinking back to the therapist appointment this week. He is supposed to focus on all the good things in his life. In his mind, he tries to think about positive things, things or people he cares about. Well, of course he cares about Ned and MJ, in a certain way, then Aunt May and the Stark family. But what things does he really care about these days? He doesn’t enjoy school as much as he used, his life as a superhero seems to be over and his hobbies? Not really. Instead of helping, it makes Peter realises even more what seems to be wrong with his life. Not that he is ever going to say that to the therapist. No, it has to look like the therapy is working. For Aunt May’s sake.

“She always does this. I’m going to bring her upstairs,” Pepper’s voice breaks the silence. Both Peter and Mr Stark look up. Peter from his lap and Mr Stark from his phone. There is a slight frown on Mr Stark’s face, one that quickly vanishes behind a clam façade.

“I can do it. I’m knackered anyway.” Mr Stark fake yawns, pockets his phone and gets up. His movements are slow and a little sluggish. _Still not fully healed,_ Peter thinks and watches him struggle to lift Morgan with one arm.

“I should go too,” he mumbles and follows Mr Stark into the hallway after a quick good night to Pepper.

As soon as the door to the guest room closes behind him, Peter lets out a breath he didn’t even know he had been holding. No matter what he still feels like an intruder. As if he is the third wheel or in this case fourth wheel of this happy family.

He changes into his pyjamas, brushes his teeth and finally goes to the restroom. Despite turning the light off and lying underneath the covers, sleep once again won’t claim him. Whenever he lies in bed like this Peter is acutely aware of his body, but also the absences of his spider-sense. There is no tingling, no hyper alerted senses. It’s just plain old human Peter. Staring at the ceiling, trying to calm his brain down, to convince his body to go to sleep.

It takes him a while, but eventually, his eyes slip close and his body slackens as he falls asleep.

*

Morgan is happily splashing away in the water under the watchful eyes of both Peter and Pepper. The latter claiming that it was too cold yet to take a dip in the lake. And Peter not exactly comfortable getting undressed in front of Pepper and Morgan. His body is littered with tiny pale scars, which makes him weirdly self-conscious. He also doesn’t really care about taking a swim. Having grown up in Queens, he learnt how to swim, but never really had the chance to do so.

“She enjoys having you around. Living out here,” Pepper looks at the cabin behind her. “She doesn’t have much chance to interact with others. Tony wants to home-school her, keep her here. But I think it might be nice for her to go to school and be with other kids.”

Peter can only nod. He sometimes wishes he was home-schooled as well, simply because he wants to escape Flash’s teasing. Then again, if he didn’t go to school, he wouldn’t have met Ned. Not that it makes much of a difference these days. Pepper has given him the perfect opportunity to go back inside and start on his homework, yet somehow Peter is reluctant. The warm sun on his face, the fresh air and slight breeze, he would rather be outside than cooped up inside. Even when Mr Stark asked him to join him in his workshop once more.

“Mommy look!” Morgan holds something up that looks like…”Morgan! Drop that frog immediately!”

*

Like they did on Friday night, they settle in front of the TV. Minus Tony, he scurries off to his office or workshop or wherever he goes to. It’s his house and none of Peter’s business. Even though Peter is curious to know if there is a hidden basement full of tech.

“Can we watch a movie?”

“In ten minutes, okay? I would like to watch the news first.” Pepper settles down at one end of the couch and like the day before, Morgan stays pressed into Peter’s side.

The TV turns on and the news play, nothing interesting seems to have happened. No alien invasions, no weird weather occurrences, just plain boring news, and then…

“It is now official. The phenomenon which reached all of us over five years ago is now called ‘the blip’. Scientists have been struggling to come up with a name for what has happened. In the end, the term ‘blip’ was defined by-“ The sleek face of the news anchor is replaced by that of a mid-twenties man. He is in a plain shirt, hair unkempt, glasses askew. “How did you coin the term ‘blip’?”

“Well you know, like, you see all these people vanishing. And it’s like they just blip out. You know, like a light bulb. So, I figured that’s what happened. People just blipped. Like my neighbour, blipped and five years later blips back.” The picture switches back to the news anchor. “Thank you-“

There is a weird noise in Peter’s ears, rushing, he can hear his own heart beat in his chest. Fast, Faster. _Blip_. That’s what they call it. The Snap is now Blip. Officially the news guy had said. Official term. To blip. He blipped. He friggin blipped. A noise works its way up his throat and Peter struggles to keep it inside. He needs to go, he needs to-

Peter mechanically gets up, he doesn’t register the worried face of Pepper, ignores Morgan’s indignant cry. He just needs to get out of here. His body moves, one step after the other. Then he is outside, the cool air hitting his face. But it’s still not enough. He _blipped_.

There was nothing only darkness, and then he was back. He vanished from existence and came back, just like that.

It takes Peter a long time to come back, to feel the wood against his back, the earth underneath him; to realize that he sits on the ground of the forest and that his breath is slowing down, the rushing in his ears getting less.

“There you go. Deep breath in. And out.”

It also takes him another moment to realize that he is not alone. There is a steady hand on his shoulder, the weight a comfort. Night has truly fallen, it’s too dark to make out who sits next to him. Peter doesn’t need to see him to know that it is Mr Stark next to him. He knows the smell of the man’s expensive cologne and even when he is not wearing it, there is that certain smell surrounding him that Peter would be able to pick out in crowd.

“Mr Stark.” Why does his voice sound so breathless?

“I’m here kid.” A soft squeeze to his shoulder. “How do you feel?”

Another minute ticks by in which Peter tries to figure out how he is feeling. His chest hurts and he has a headache, there is that feeling of lost time. He doesn’t remember coming here, the last thing he remembers is watching the news and…blip. He blipped.

“Hey, hey, calm down. Take a deep breath. Steady.” Peter does as instructed, the fresh air filling his constricting lungs.

“Let’s get you up and inside.” The hand moves from his shoulder under his arm, the grip is firm and still Peter struggles to get his feet beneath him. “Come on buddy, work with me. I only have one arm.” Mr Stark grunts and Peter feels like toppling over, eventually they manage to get him upright. His hand finds the tree trunk and he rests for a moment, catching his breath.

“Whenever you are ready kid. Preferably tonight,” a little bit of snark comes through Mr Stark’s voice, it’s not enough to hide the worry. Peter hates the fact that he has made someone worry. Again.

Slowly, the two of them stumble through the darkness back to the cabin. The lights are turned on, guiding their way. Instead of entering through the front door, Mr Stark leads him around the house and through the side entrance.

Peter nearly falls into one of the armchairs in the room and has to take a deep breath so as not to black out. For some weird reason his vision swims and he sees those black spots.

“Okay, come on Peter, talk to me. What brought this on?” Mr Stark doesn’t sit down opposite him in the other armchair, instead he kneels down in front of Peter, just so he can look him in the eyes.

“I-I…” He struggles to find the right words. Mostly because he doesn’t know what brought this on. Was it that word? Was it hearing someone talk about it? In his mind he thinks about the Snap all the time, how was this different?

“I don’t know. I-I don’t even remember how I got outside…” trailing off Peter tries to lower his eyes, to avoid looking at Mr Stark. The older man isn’t having it though and immediately grabs his chin and forces Peter to look at him.

“Alright. First of all, I want you to look at me when we talk. Secondly, I have an idea of what brought this panic attack along. Because that’s what it was Peter, a panic attack. Had a fair share of them myself. I thought you were doing better seeing a therapist?” There it is again. The worry.

“I-“ he swallows. Now is the time to tell the truth. “I lied. I don’t feel better. Not at all.”

Mr Stark seems speechless, although he presses his lips together so hard that Peter thinks he is angry for a moment.

“Okay. Okay Peter. It’s okay. Let’s just…damn it.” Mr Stark stands up and starts pacing. Peter feels a wave of dizziness overcome him and he closes his eyes for a moment.

“Okay. We will talk about this tomorrow kid. Let’s get you to bed.” It seems like even Mr Stark doesn’t know what to do with him.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

 

Peter wakes up with a nosebleed, a red stain already forming on the pillow. He can’t remember if the nosebleed is a side effect of a nightmare, or if he simply has a nosebleed. It’s been ages since he had one randomly. Usually he gets them after he is beaten up by someone.

His cheeks is wet as he sits up and a few drops of blood fall onto the white comforter. That is going to be a pain to get out.

Sunlight filters through the window, it must be late in the morning already.

Peter cups his nose with one hand and pulls the comforter aside with the other. With one hand it seems nearly impossible to get dressed for breakfast; instead of struggling into his clothing, he decides to go downstairs in his pyjamas. But first, he needs to clean his face.

By the time he has all the blood washed from his face, the nosebleed is only a small trickle, but hasn’t fully stopped either.

“Are you okay?” is the first thing Pepper asks him as he enters the kitchen with a tissue pressed to his nose.

“Yeah, just a nosebleed,” his voice is muffled. “I got some blood on the pillow and-“

“Let me see.” Pepper cups his face with both of her hands and Peter reluctantly lowers the tissue.

“How long has this been going on?”

“I woke up with it,” he sniffs a little, trying to stop the next rivulet of blood to leave his nose. He can already feel it tickling. “I’m sorry-“ Pepper interrupts him again.

“Don’t worry about getting blood on the bedding. Sit down and keep that tissue against your nose, I will make you a cold compress for your neck, that should help.”

Per usual Morgan sits at the kitchen table, a bowl of cereal in front of her and no sign of Tony anywhere.

“Does it hurt?” she asks him, a small frown on her face.

“Not really, it tickles a little.”

“How can a nosebleed tickle? I never had one before…”

“Well it’s hard to explain…it’s probably from the blood running down the inside of your nose and…”

Morgan wrinkles her nose in silent disgust.

“Okay, no more talking about nosebleeds. What do you want for breakfast Peter?” Pepper interjects, putting her hands on her hips.

“I’m not really hungry right now…” which is the truth for once. His throat is filled with the coppery taste of blood and he is still busy pressing the tissue against his nose to catch the blood.

“What happened!?” Suddenly Mr Stark is in front of him, pulling his arm away to see what is bleeding behind the bloodstained tissue.

“Just a nosebleed,” Peter mumbles and presses the tissue back against his nose.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, he is sure that it’s just a nosebleed. Sit down and drink your coffee.”

Mr Stark throws him another worried look but does as he is told. It takes a few more minutes for the nosebleed to finally stop. Peter takes a deep breath through his nose, exhaling through his mouth.

By now everyone is seated at the table, breakfast in front of them. Mr Stark is on his second cup of coffee, Morgan on her second bowl of cereal. There is enough food on the table for Pepper to not have to get up, still, she is about to get up and get him something.

“It’s okay, I can throw this away myself.”

“If you want a cup of tea or anything…” she trails of unsurely.

“Glass of water will do, really not feeling up to eating anything.” Which for once is the truth as his stomach is rather queasy, and the taste of copper is prominent in his mouth.

“If you change your mind, help yourself.”

*

As soon as breakfast is finished, Mr Stark tells him he wants to have a word. No doubt it’s about that supposed panic attack he had the day before. Peter’s mind is still muddled. Whenever he tries to figure out what happened, he just can’t. It’s like a piece of his memory is missing. It was the same with the final battle, somehow, no matter how much he tried to remember, he simply couldn’t.

They go outside away from sharp little ears and settle on the bench in front of the lake. It’s peaceful out here, and calms Peter straight down. He hadn’t even noticed that he was nervous again. Being nervous all the time did that to a person.

For a few long minutes Mr Stark doesn’t say anything; he just sits there, good arm slung over the back of the bench staring out to the lake.

As he feels the silence getting to him, the tension building up; Mr Stark finally says something.

“What do you think we should do?”

It’s not what Peter expected not at all.

“W-What do you mean?”

Mr Stark turns towards him, his face serious.

“You’re clearly struggling, having a panic attack…kid that’s some serious business. You said the therapist is not helping, but we need to do something. You’re still young Peter, whole life ahead of you. You need to pull through this, okay?”

“I am pulling through this.”

“No. No, you’re not. You’re not coping or pulling through or getting better. You’re barely surviving and deep inside that clever head of yours, you know that.”

Peter has to swallow, hard. The sudden lump inside his throat the size of Mount Rushmore. And maybe Mr Stark is right. Maybe he’s not getting by and is making _it_ worse. Whatever _it_ is. But how should he know? Sometimes he actually feels like the kid he is, well, teenager. He’s not an adult, even if it is hard to admit sometimes after having seen and done so many things.

“Peter. We need to figure out what to do. You said the therapist is not working or helping. Why is that?”

Peter shrugs in reply.

“Common buddy, talk to me,” Mr Stark prods.

“I…I don’t really like her. I mean, I don’t know her at all, and I’m supposed to tell her everything.”

“I know it can be hard trusting others, but you have to trust someone to make you feel better.”

“All she ever does is tell me to stay positive and do funny breathing and relax. She wants me to write down my nightmares and-“

“You have nightmares?” Mr Stark interrupts him. Peter can only blink owlishly before catching on. He hadn’t meant to tell Mr Stark that. No one knows, not even May. Not really. She knows a little, knows that he sometimes wakes up from a bad dream, but not that he has them almost every single night.

“How often?”

Peter shrugs. He didn’t mean to slip up like that.

“Peter. How often?”

“Almost every night.” He lowers his head in shame. For him, having these nightmares is literally a sign of weakness. He’s stuck in the past, stuck in what happened.

“Hey, what did I tell you kid, I want you to look at me when we talk.” Rough fingers lift his chin, so Peter has no choice but to look at Mr Stark again.

“The first thing we’re gonna do is talk about those nightmares, alright? Whenever you have one, you talk to someone. Talk to your aunt, or me, or Pepper, any of your friends, I’m pretty sure you could  tell Happy. Just damn tell someone, got it?”

“Got it.”

“We still need to figure out what sent you in a panic yesterday and I’m pretty sure it was that whole new ‘blip’ thing. What exactly was it? Seeing the footage of people vanishing? The fact that they coined the whole thing with such a stupid term?” The last sentence is said with a half-smile on Mr Stark’s face. Despite the fact that the word alone makes a shudder go through Peter. For a moment his mind goes blank and then he remembers Saturday night. They had been watching the news, ready to watch a movie. He remembers seeing the pictures on the TV, the people vanishing accompanied by a description on why it was now officially called ‘blip’. Peter remembers seeing the others vanish in front of his eyes, back when he was in space, how he felt when his own body started to disintegrate-

“Whoa buddy, take a deep breath.” The hand is heavy on his shoulder and pulls him straight back from whatever dark place his mind has been going to.

“Definitely some issues there. Another breath, come on, in and out, in and out.” Peter takes a few shuddering breaths, before he feels like he can breathe normal again.

“Alright, we established part of the problem. Shall we try and get to the bottom of this?” It’s neither a question, nor a suggestion, although he has worded it like Peter has a choice, he already knows that Mr Stark won’t give him a choice at all.

A tense silence hangs between them for a few minutes. Peter feels the need to make himself small again, to bow his head and hunch his shoulders. He doesn’t though, knowing that Mr Stark would only force him to face him again.

“This is turning pretty much into a one-sided conversation. Come on kid, don’t you have something to say for yourself?”

Peter shrugs in reply.

“Alright. Then let’s talk about the reason for your reaction yesterday. What exactly was it? You still haven’t told me.”

“It’s because I don’t know, okay?!” he didn’t mean for his voice to get so loud. He never raises his voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout…”

“Hey, I’m not one to stop you from shouting if you feel like it. It’s probably good to not keep everything bottled up. That’s what the whole talking thing is about. So, tell me, what’s the issue with the whole ‘blip’ thing?” Peter cringes at the casual way Mr Stark uses the word ‘blip’.

“I-I…it’s just…I guess naming _it_ …it makes it so real.”

“Well, it is real.”

“But,” Peter struggles to explain what is going on in his head. “What if it’s not?” It’s that old fear of him clawing its way to the surface; that fear of all of it being an illusion.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Mr Stark looks puzzled.

“It could be an illusion.”

A pensive look spreads on Mr Stark’s face.

“Okay. I will get you back on this one, okay? Let’s just stop right here. You know you can always talk to me. So, whenever there is a problem, or you have a nightmare, or whatever issue it is; you will talk to me or someone. Am I clear?”

Peter nods quietly.

“Now off you go. Don’t you have homework to do?”

Again, Peter nods and reluctantly leaves Mr Stark alone to head back inside.

*

It’s been nearly an hour since May came to pick him up. Instead of driving straight back to Queens, Mr Stark wanted to have a word. The thought alone of them talking, most likely about him, makes Peter nervous, his stomach doing weird flips while his hands can’t stop fiddling with the hem of his hoodie. If they don’t get on their way soon, it will be late in the evening by the time they are back at the apartment. Not like Peter has any say in the matter. He is sat at the kitchen table with Morgan, his packed bag and backpack on the floor next to him, ready to be picked up and put in the car. Pepper busies herself with preparing dinner, cutting vegetables and getting out all the ingredients she will need.

“Are you sure you don’t want to play a game with me?” Morgan asks him sweetly, but Peter shakes his head. The only thing he wants to do right now is leave. He hates it when people talk about him. Especially when he knows they are talking about him.

“No it’s okay…I-“

“Let’s go honey. Thanks for having him over Pepper.” Aunt May steps into the kitchen followed by Mr Stark.

“Oh no, it’s alright. We love having Peter over.”

“Can Peter stay here forever?” Morgan chirps in. May and Pepper laugh. “You will have to ask him that, although I think Peter would miss going to school, right sweetheart?”

“Uhm, yeah. I will see you soon Morgan.” Despite Peter wanting nothing more to leave quickly, it takes another ten minutes for them to say goodbye. He gets a hug from Pepper, several from Morgan and one from Mr Stark. While May keeps chatting about this and that.

When they finally make it to the car, Peter gets in and buckles up as quick as he can.

“Someone seems eager to get home today,” May smiles at him. That warm smile that has been a lifeline to Peter ever since his parents died.

“I have some leftover homework and there is school tomorrow.”

“Whatever you say. Don’t forget to take a break sometimes.” She winks as him as she puts turn on the engine and drives away.

Whatever conversation she has had with Mr Stark never comes up during the ride.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

 

 

The next day at school all everyone seems to be able to talk about is the blip. Peter tries to avoid talking about it, by not giving his opinion when Ned asks him about it and trying to shut other students’ conversations out. It’s not easy, but he gets through the day without freaking out more than he does anyway.

“Peter, can I have a word?” Mr Harrington stops him before he can leave the classroom. Ned throws him a questioning look, before filing out with the other students.

“Yeah, sure.” For a moment he tries to think about what the reason could be that his teacher wants to talk with him. His grades were not bad, he always handed his homework in on time and took part in class.

“I have noticed a little lack of enthusiasm for science recently.”

“Was my homework not good or-“

“No, it’s not that.” Mr Harrington sits down at the table in front of him, facing Peter. “It’s just that you used to be more energetic when it came to science. I think you would greatly benefit from coming to Europe in the summer. We have some interesting trips planned for you guys. Have you considered joining the group?”

It’s the same thing Ned keeps asking him. Is he coming along; will he go to Europe etc. The truth is:  Peter kind of wants to go, but he knows May doesn’t have the money for it. Part of the school trip is funded, but pocket money and entrance fees will have to be paid by parents, or in his case guardians. If May knew about the trip, Peter knows she would try to let him go no matter what. Alas, they really can’t spare the money right now.

“Yeah, uhm…it’s a little expensive…”

Mr Harrington seems to understand straight away. “That’s alright Peter. You have two more weeks for signing up, should your financial situation change, you can always come and talk to me.”

“Thank you, sir.”

As soon as he leaves the classroom Ned is on him.

“What did Mr Harrington want? Are you in trouble?”

“It was just something about homework. If we don’t hurry, we will be late to Spanish.”

*

“Hey, sweetie. There is something I would like to talk to you about.” Says May, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Uhm, yeah, sure. What is it?”

“So, I’ve been thinking.” She steps inside and takes a seat on his bed. “I would really like to start helping around the neighbourhood and I had the idea that maybe some kind of charity might be nice. Getting some money for those who were hit the hardest by the Blip and so on. And I was thinking that it would be a great opportunity for you to appear as Spider-Man. What do you think?”

For a moment, Peter doesn’t know how to reply. Should he be excited about his aunt’s idea?

“What do you mean? What does Spider-Man have to do with it?” Ever since he’s gotten out of the hospital, Peter didn’t think much about being Spider-Man, he didn’t want to. So why did May?

“Well, whenever we have a fundraiser, you could appear as Spider-Man and give autographs, take pictures. You know? These kind of things. So?” She throws him a nervous smile. Clearly, it’s something his aunt really wants to do. But Peter doesn’t like the idea. Not at all.

“Can I think about it?” It’s easier than saying a straight forward no. It also buys him some time to think of an excuse.

“Yeah, of course sweetie.” May’s smile lessens a little, but she seems happy enough when she presses a kiss to the top of his head and leaves the room.

*

With everything that’s going on, it comes as no surprise to Peter when he wakes up the next morning, panting hard from a nightmare, his heart beating a mile a minute in his chest. He can’t remember what he has just dreamed off, which is unusual as his dreams feel real most of the time. As if his body is actually there in the moment.

Then realization dawns, and the breath gets lodged in his throat. What if this is not reality, but he is still in the dream? He is not awake but dreaming right now?

“Okay Peter, calm down. Don’t panic. This cannot be a dream. You’re awake. Okay. Okay” he talks quietly to himself, trying to figure out a way to proof that this is reality.

May.

His aunt should be here in the flat somewhere. He can just go to her and then everything will be fine. Peter gets out of bed and calmly leaves his room. There is no need for him to panic. No need at all. Everything looks the same. Surely his head is playing tricks on him. Since it’s already light out, Peter is not afraid to call for his aunt. “May?”

There is no answer.

“May?” he tries again, this time louder. Sometimes she doesn’t hear him when she is listening to music. However, there is still no reply. Everything seems a little too quiet for his taste.

The floorboards creak underneath his feet. They never do that in his dreams. No this has to be reality. It just has to be. Peter calls once more when he stands in front of May’s bedroom door. It’s slightly ajar, and carefully he pushes against it. The room behind is empty; completely empty. Bare walls, bare floor, no furniture.

“May?” his voice suddenly sounds so much higher. A shaking begins in his hands. He runs towards the kitchen, but there is nothing there either. When he turns around there is a white wall of nothing behind him until he is surrounded by white. Just white. Endless white.

“May? Anyone?” His heart is pounding so loudly in his head. This can’t be real; this has to be a dream. He’s still sleeping. Wake up Peter, wake up!

Peter turns and turns, screams for help, tries to wake himself up by pinching himself. In the end, it’s his phone vibrating that wakes him.

Breathless, Peter grabs for his phone in the semi darkness.

It’s just a text message.

 

_21:42 Hey are you coming on the Europe Science trip? -MJ_

It’s well into the night, but only now did the message arrive. Peter is not sure whether he should text back in the middle of the night or if he should just do it the next morning. Maybe he isn’t awake at all, but still in a dream. Fear crawls over him, gripping him tight. No. He cannot think like this. His fingers hover over the screen, then, before he can change his mind, he types a quick text and hits send. With his heart racing inside his chest, Peter feels like he is going to faint any moment. Can one even faint in a dream?

Clutched between his hands, his phone vibrates a few minutes later.

 

_03:17 It’s the middle of the night, kid. Hold on._

Two minutes later, the screen lights up. Mr Stark is calling him.

“H-hey,” Peter hates how his voice waivers.

“Bad dream, huh? Tell me about it.” Mr Stark’s voice sounds rough from sleep. He was right, it’s the middle of the night. Maybe it was a mistake…and that’s exactly what Peter tries to tell him when he is shut down.

“No. Listen Peter, I told you to call me, okay? I don’t care that you wake me in the middle of night. When Morgan has a bad dream, she does the same, so why shouldn’t you?”

A thousand possible answers race through Peter’s mind; because I’m not your son, because you shouldn’t feel obligated to listen to me, because you shouldn’t care so much about me. But he says none of these things and remains quiet for a moment instead.

“You still there, kid?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Common talk to me. What was your dream about.”

Peter fumbles for a moment and then the words seem to spill out of him. How he didn’t know whether he was dreaming or nor. That it felt like he was awake, that it was reality and not a dream. That everything just disintegrated in front of him, running through his hands like sand. Mr Stark stays quiet and listens, sometimes humming to show that he is still there on the other end of the line. Until Peter has finished talking about his dream and feels the wetness in the corner of his eyes.

“You’re awake now Peter, okay? You know that right?”

He makes a non-committal noise.

“No one will vanish in front of you again. It won’t happen again, I promise. You’re just afraid, we all are, that it could happen again. But it won’t. There is not gauntlet, there is no Thanos, no Infinity Stones that could be used to make a new gauntlet. It’s over, you need to realise that.

“I know…but what if this is all not real? What if you are not real and I’m still…not here? How do I know that?”

Mr Stark stays quiet on the other end of the line. There is no real way to proof what reality is and what not.

“Pinch yourself.”

“What?” for a moment he is stumped by the command. “Pinch?”

“Yes. Pinch yourself as if you’re a little kid and unsure whether or not you’re dreaming.” Mr Stark’s voice sounds serious. He’s not joking. Peter does as he is told, his fingers pinching his own skin. There is a sharp pain, probably some redness that he can’t see due to the darkness of his room, strangely he feels more alert. It takes a few seconds and the pain vanishes.

“Peter?”

He takes a deep breath, his lungs filling with air.

“Yeah.”

“What do you think now? Illusion or reality?”

Despite not being wholly convinced, Peter answers with ‘reality’. Would Mr Stark in his dreams tell him to pinch himself? The pain in his dreams always felt different as well.

“If you’re ever in doubt again, just pinch yourself, alright? And if there is nothing else, I think we should both be going back to bed. It’s nearly 4 am.”

Mr Stark is the voice of reason. Peter thanks him at least a dozen times before he hangs up and falls back onto his mattress. He has to admit, he is just a tiny bit tired now, enough for his eyes to fall closed and for him to slip into a light sleep.

*

Ned slides onto the bench next to him.

“Heeey,” he draws the word out more than he usually does. “You still haven’t told me whether you’re joining the Europe trip or not.”

“Oh. Hey Ned.”

His friend raises an eyebrow at him. “So? Are you coming? You said you would talk to May about it?”

“Well, uhm…”

“Hey loser.” MJ sits down opposite to them. “Are you talking about the Europe science trip?”

“Are you going?” Ned asks immediately, vibrating like an excited puppy.

“Yep. Always wanted to go to Europe. It’s a good opportunity to learn more about those countries that didn’t openly believe in the slave trade.”

“Yeah. Ha ha. I’m really looking forward to it.”

“You coming too loser?” Both of their gazes now rest on Peter, and he can feel that tell-tale sign of his stomach churning that lets him know he doesn’t like the attention.

“I actually haven’t had the time to talk to my aunt yet…”

“Oh, come on Peter! You have to go with us! It bet it will be great. No better than great! It will be-“

“Yeah we got it. Awesome trip ahead. Yay.” MJ deadpans, her tone dry as usual.

“I’m just trying to get Peter to understand that he has to go with us! It will be awesome dude, really! Just you and me in Europe! And-“

“The rest of those that will be on the same trip. As well as Mr Harrington. Oh, and Flash will be there too.”

Ned throws MJ a look, one that clearly says, ‘did you have to mention that Flash would be there too?’. It’s a look Peter knows; Flash is still a sore spot. Will probably always be. Not that he cares much about that anymore, he can ignore Flash’s comments most of the time, ignores him when he walks past him in the hallway.

“Come on Peter! It will be fun! You should really talk to May soon. I mean the deadline for signing up is like in a week and-“

Luckily Peter is saved by the bell. “Will do, see you later guys!” he says he scrambles out of his seat, picks up his lunch tray and practically runs out of the cafeteria after dumping his tray.

His hands are trembling as he runs into the boy’s restroom, into one of the empty stalls. He takes one deep breath, then another. It’s okay. Everything is okay. He remembers Mr Stark’s words from the night before and pinches himself. Pain blossoms on his hand, the skin going red before settling. Everything was going to be fine.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

 

“What is it this time Tony?” a warm hand settles on his shoulder, massaging slightly. “You have that look on your face…”

“I’m just trying to figure out how to help Peter with everything. I mean a therapist didn’t work, what else is one supposed to try, hon?”

Pepper slides her hand down his arm as she moves around to lean against his desk.

“Can I remind you; a therapist didn’t work for you either. You got better because you had people who care about you and wanted you to get better. You got better because you were in a safe environment, you are in a safe environment. I’m sure May is doing her best on doing the same for Peter. It just takes time.”

“He called me last night.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. Middle of the night he calls me and tells me about this weird dream he had.” Tony presses his lips close. He doesn’t want to betray Peter’s trust in him by telling Pepper what the boy told him during the night. It’s for him to share, not for Tony.

“You don’t have to tell me. It’s private. But you know you can, right?”

“I know. It just…it makes me think about this whole situation. How can I help him, if he, well, he doesn’t know that he needs help. It’s hard to figure out what is wrong in his head, because he won’t talk.”

“He’s just like you in that regard.” Pepper cards her hands through his hair, she is the only person alive on this planet allowed to do that besides him. The motion instantly relaxes him, making him lean back in the chair. “We can always have him spend more time here, try to get him to talk. I know Morgan sees him as a big brother. She is so excited and keeps talking about what she wants to show him the next time he is here.”

Tony ponders Peppers words for a moment. Would it be so bad for Peter to spend more time here? As a kind of healing retreat? School will be over in a couple of weeks. Summer holidays. And Tony knows for a fact that Peter is not Spider-Man anymore and has no other plans for the summer. May would probably be happy to know that Peter was being taken care off. Maybe. Maybe it would be good for Peter to be away from the city. The forest is a balm to Tony’s frazzled nerves most of the time. There are no people annoying him, no loud streets, no photographers, no one trying to kill him. Well his secret security system is so secure; Pepper doesn’t even know it exists.

“Maybe…over the summer…”

“Why don’t we talk it through with May? She could come join us as well for a bit of a vacation away from New York. We could at least invite them for the fourth weekend. Steve will be here, right?”

“Birthday party.” Tony hates to admit it, but he did offer his friend to have a birthday BBQ at his house. Not because Steve doesn’t have his own house, no, simply because Tony has all that space where they can celebrate in peace away from noisy civilisation.

“Alright. No more brooding Tony. I know for a fact that you have a daughter waiting outside who would love nothing more but to play with you. I will give May a call and see about their summer plans, okay?”

“As you say honey.” Tony gives Pepper a kiss on her cheek before venturing outside. The weather is nice – as it always seems to be – and even from a distance he can hear Morgan’s happy giggling. What wouldn’t Tony give for Peter to be as happy and carefree as Morgan seems to be.

*

It’s past midnight when Tony tries to sneak into bed. It’s what he always does, his brain unable to stop thinking until he is left with a raging headache. But that’s okay, he’s used to it. Some days he can fall asleep no problem, others…it takes him forever. Sadly, it’s one of those days where he can feel his body heavy from a long day, his skull banging, and he still knows that he won’t find any peace yet. Tony will put his head on the pillow, cross his arms over his chest and think. Until eventually he drops of to sleep. Sometimes Pepper wakes up when he lifts the covers, sometimes she turns around and puts her arm over his chest. Other times she continues sleeping, deep in a dream, so deep that she doesn’t notice him. And that’s fine. Because Tony doesn’t want to wake anyone up. It’s bad enough that he is awake.

As soon as Tony lifts the covers, Pepper turns around, her hand seeking out his body. The bedside lamp is on, the dim light shining bright enough for him to see that Pepper has one eye open.

“We need to work on those sleep habits.” It’s what she always tells him when he sneaks into bed, always. “I know hon, sorry for waking you.” Tony presses a kiss to her temple, his way of saying that he is sorry.

“It’s okay…I talked to May after dinner.” Not that Tony would know that as he spent dinner in his workshop, tinkering away. He had a midnight snack not long ago, so it’s not too bad that he missed dinner.

“And?” Tony slides down underneath the blanket, settling on his side to face Pepper.

“She’s agreed that Peter might benefit from some time away from New York. But she is not sure how he will react to the suggestion…”

“Hmm.”

“May said she wants to start a non-profit organisation for those who came back from the…blip.”

“Huh?”

“What’s going on in that head of yours right now?” Busted. As soon as Pepper told him that May considers letting Peter stay with them for a bit, his head went away. There is so much he still needs to research, ways to make Peter feel better, safe, to make him realise that this is real and not an illusion.

“Just thinking about Peter…”

“Tony…I get it, he’s part of the family. But if you don’t stop thinking for one minute your head is going to explode. I bet you already have a headache from all that thinking you do during the day. I think we need to have a talk about your habits again. I don’t want you slipping away, I know that’s not what you’re doing. But dinner is dinner and I expect you to be there. I don’t mind if you come to bed late, but at least kiss your daughter good night.”

Pepper seldom scolds him, only ever when she is right. And she is right. Tony sometimes simply can’t help slipping into his old bad habits.

“I’m sorry honey.”

“You should be.” There is a light teasing in her voice although Tony knows she is completely serious. Pepper is a lioness when it comes to her child, she protects Morgan fiercely and Tony is reminded of his own mother, who cared in her own way for him.

“Can we go back to sleep now?”

“Sorry for waking you.”

“It’s fine. Just turn off the light.”

It’s exactly what Tony does, then he scoots closer to Pepper, his good arm around her waist.

*

He’s outside playing with Morgan when he gets the call.

Usually Tony ignores all work-related calls these days. If it’s important Happy can take care of it. If it’s really important then Pepper deals with it. If it’s really, really important then Tony is the one to go to. It’s not a work-related call however, instead it’s May’s name as caller ID.

“I have to take this, be right back.”

“Okay Daddy.” Morgan continues playing tea party, her tongue poking out as she pours the tea into small cups.

Tony steps a little away from her, so as not to disturb her, but not too far. Just in case Morgan decides to run off or a weird alien lands on earth and tries kidnapping her.

“Hello, May? Is everything alright?”

“Is this a bad time? I can call later if you want…” On the other end of the line, May sounds unsure, nervous even.

“No, no, this is good.”

“Oh okay, well, I-“ for a moment May sounds exactly like Peter when he is nervous and looking for a way to start a sentence. “I had a call from one of Peter’s teachers today. It looks like they are offering a week long science trip to Europe during the summer.”

“Okay.”

“The teacher told me that it would be a great opportunity for Peter, and I do have to agree that he should spend more time with his friends and outside. And going to Europe at his age could be huge – well if you forget that he has been to space.” A nervous laugh. “But I so hate to ask this, but even with school funding, I won’t be able to afford the trip for him. I-I really don’t want to inconvenience you or-“ Before May can go on rambling, Tony interrupts her.

“How much do you need. You know I offered to help out financially. I honestly think a week in Europe might be good for Peter, to get out of New York, to do something different. Just tell me how much it is, and I will pay it.”

“Are you sure? I will pay you back of course and-“

“No. You won’t pay me back. It’s alright. Peter is family, right? I have enough money; I can invest in his future.”

“Are you really sure Tony? I don’t feel like I can just take money for Peter and not pay you back. It feels wrong…”

Of course, Tony gets it. Coming from a background of never having that much money, of having to save up to by necessities, May would want to pay him back. She is a proud woman. Even making this call must have been really hard for her.

“It’s Peter’s birthday present. So, there will be no paying back. Give me the details and I will pay.”

“Really, I can’t accept that. It’s too much. You’re already doing so much for us-“

“Like I said, Peter is family. Which makes you family. Honestly May, I have the money to spare, let me invest in our future, okay?”

May flounders for a few more minutes before finally accepting that she won’t have to pay Tony back. A minute after they have hung up, he receives an email with all the information about the trip. There is a planned itinerary; Venice, Paris, London and some of the sights they are going to see. Most of the entrance fees are included in the amount that needs to be paid. For Tony the four digits are not much, but he understands that they seem like a lot for May, especially as she is still settling into the new job at the hospital.

“Daddy! Come back and play with me!” Morgan’s voice is demanding as she calls for him.

“Be there in a second sweetheart,” he calls back. He sets himself a reminder to pay the money later, pockets his phone and joins his daughter at her tea party.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

 

The key is still in the lock when May calls him from the kitchen.

“Peter? Come to the kitchen for a moment, will you?” Almost immediately his hands began to feel sweaty and Peter had trouble removing the key from the lock. He closes the door behind him softly and walks towards the kitchen.

May sits at the small table, a cup of tea in front of her, next to an open magazine.

“How was school today sweetie?”

“Good. Is everything okay?”

“Have a seat,” May pats the empty chair. Reluctantly, Peter slides his backpack from his shoulders and sits down at the table. He doesn’t know whether he did something or not. He didn’t get in any trouble at school, well, except for his talk with Mr Harrington. But he wasn’t really in trouble back then.

“Do you know who I met this morning at the supermarket? Betty’s mom!” Peter swallows heavily. He used to go to middle school with Betty, that’s why May knows her parents.

“She told me that you have the opportunity to go to Europe during summer break. And it was a really big coincidence, I guess, because one of your teachers called me about the trip as well.” May sounds excited as she tells Peter this. While Peter can barely hide the dread, he can feel surfacing in his stomach, making it churn.

“Why didn’t you tell me about that Europe trip? Don’t you want to go Peter?” What is he supposed to say to that? On the one hand, he feels like he could do with a vacation and he has only ever been to Berlin that one time. On the other hand, Peter knows how tight money is, knows that they cannot afford it. Instead of saying anything, he shrugs. May’s smile instantly turns into a slight frown.

“Well, I figured it might be a good opportunity for you, so I signed you up.”

“Oh.” For a moment Peter is too stumped to react. He wasn’t expecting this, not at all. Inside he had been steeling himself for something bad. So far, he is not sure that that Europe trip is such good news either.

“Are you not happy to go? Isn’t Ned going as well?”

“Uhm yeah. But…” The price for the trip goes through his head. Too expensive, they don’t have the money for it.

“But? What is it?”

“I- we don’t have the money…”

“Oh sweetie,” May grabs his hand across the table and squeezes it. “You don’t have to worry about money, okay? Never worry about that. It’s my job to do that.”

“But I know we don’t have a lot right now and-“

“Peter don’t worry. I got it covered. I want you to go on this trip and enjoy yourself; see Europe!” The last part she says with a smile.

As much as he wants to ask how May got enough money together to pay for the trip; Peter puts on his fake smile instead and says thank you.

*

The next day at school, it’s Mr Harrington who once again wants to talk to him after class. And again Ned overhears him before he heads out of the classroom.

“So, you’re joining us after all for the big trip? I’m glad you decided to tag along Peter.”

“Uhm yeah, my aunt thought it would be a great opportunity for me…”

“It certainly is! I brought all of the information leaflets for you, some of them need to be signed by your guardian. You can just give them back to me tomorrow, so I can file them.”

“Okay, yeah. Sure Mr Harrington.” His teacher hands him a thick folder which he stuffs into his backpack without reading it.

“See you tomorrow, sir.” Peter says before hurrying outside of the classroom where he is immediately accosted by Ned.

“Hey, dude, what happened? You’re not in trouble, are you?”

“What? No! It’s just…I will be coming on the Europe trip after all.”

“Really?! That’s so cool Peter!” Ned slings his arm around his shoulders. “You know all that cool stuff we are going to see! Can you imagine? Two American bachelors, travelling through Europe together…”

For the rest of the day Ned keeps talking and talking and talking about the Europe trip. MJ overhears during lunch break, as does Flash who makes a snide comment before leaving their table. It’s not that Peter doesn’t want to go, the thought of going to Europe, of actually travelling and seeing things sounds amazing. It’s just his gnawing worry about money that keeps him from feeling really happy. When Ned leaves the table to dump his tray, MJ throws him a look.

“You okay loser? Cause you barely said a word during break.” Although her face looks neutral, worry shines in her eyes. Peter knows that look all too well.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

“Are you not excited to go to Europe? Have you been there before?”

“Me? To Europe? No, never!” Peter scrambles to explain. No one can know that he has been to Berlin before, or more like that Spider-Man has been to Berlin before. That he fought next to Tony Stark, Ironman himself, against the legendary Captain America. Does MJ suspect something? She couldn’t. Right, Peter has always been careful around her. And Spider-Man hasn’t been seen since the Snap had been reversed. All should be well.

“Did I miss anything?” Ned sits down next to them.

“Nah. Just Peter telling me that he hates water and really isn’t looking forward to going to Venice.” MJ deadpans, picks up her own tray and leaves their table.

“Wait? What! Peter no! Venice will be awesome! Think about all the Italian food! Pizza! And Spaghetti Bolognese and Tiramisu…”

*

It’s the first time in weeks that Peter lies on his bed, completely ignoring his homework. He has a head ache from Ned’s continuous stream of talking. There is also a new worry gnawing at him. The thought of going to Europe now completely scares him. How can he spend a week with his classmates in hotel rooms when he wakes up during the night, sweating and screaming? How is he supposed to explain that to them? Not that he wants to explain it. Explaining his nightmares would no doubt lead to revealing Spider-Man and that…well that could only end in disaster, Peter is sure of that.

May should be home within the next hour, Peter knows he should get up and get dinner started, tidy the apartment a little. It’s just…he feels tired, his head heavy. It must be from all the thinking, all that worrying has his stomach in knots.

His phone vibrates in his backpack. He didn’t even unpack his bag after school. Turning on his side, Peter fishes for his phone and sees one text from May.

_5:28 I’m doing overtime today, there should be leftovers in the fridge. Don’t stay up too long xxxMay_

_5:29 Okay_ Peter types, dropping the phone on his stomach. If he could just stay in bed forever. But this isn’t even his own bed. It’s just one they got at a charity shop after they came back, because his old bunk bed had been sold by the new tenants of their old apartment.

He could get up and eat those leftovers, Peter muses, or he could just turn around close his eyes and try to sleep away the headache. It’s the latter he does, ignoring that the zipper of his jeans rubs coldly against his stomach. He simply closes his eyes and tries to rest his mind.

*

“You could have saved me, you know kid? If you had just taken the gauntlet, if you had put it on instead of me, then I wouldn’t be dead. My daughter would still have her father.”

The voice comes from somewhere around him. But Peter can’t see, it’s pitch black, darkness surrounding him.

“It’s your fault she is part orphan now, she will not remember me, I will forever be forgotten. You stole her future, the future of a child. How does that make you feel? Why didn’t you take it? It could have been yours.”

Frantically Peter turns around, trying to find the voice talking to him. The echo accosts him, booming loudly in his ears.

“It’s your fault. It’s your fault. It’s your fault.”

Peter wants to scream, he presses his hands against his ears, trying to stop the words from registering. But he can’t he can’t. It’s his fault, it’s all his fault.

*

His whole body is bathed in sweat by the time Peter finally manages to escape his nightmare. His breath comes quick and erratic. No matter how much air he breathes in it never seems to be enough. It’s so quiet, quiet and dark around him. For a moment he tries to find his phone, when he does, he hits the on button. Immediately his room is filled with the  low blue light of the phones screen.

2:41 a.m.

When did he fall asleep? Peter doesn’t remember. At least his headache is gone, the pain now a dull ache. It’s quiet in the apartment; it’s quiet outside. He breathes in and out, trying to calm his racing heart. He hates those nightmares, hates what they are doing to him, how they are affecting him. He scrubs his eyes tiredly, wondering whether he should go back to sleep or not. There are still a couple of hours left, his body is tired enough to slip back into sleep. It’s his mind that’s racing, panicking, telling him to stay away, to stay in the light. Peter stares at his phone screen, the blue light filling his vision.

2:48 a.m.

2:53 a.m.

3:01 a.m.

3:06 a.m.

Peter counts the seconds, waits until the numbers change on his phone screen. He might as well be productive. Heaving his tired body out of bed, he turns on the lamp on his desk and pulls out the decathlon work book. After summer holidays are over, they will start going to competitions on weekends again, until they eventually – hopefully – make it to regionals and then nationals. But it’s so far away in the future and Peter doesn’t want to think about that. Not when part of him still feels like it’s stuck in the past, in the good times, before the bad things happened.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

 

It feels weird clearing out his locker. Peter can’t believe how fast time seemed to go by. The school year is over, it’s summer now. Officially summer. The last two weeks of school were weird. It was clear ever since they came back that they would have to repeat the whole year. So, they didn’t have any exams at the end of the school year like they usually had. There was no frantic studying in the hallway, at least not from those students that had been affected by the Snap. Everyone else still had to sit through exams, had to get ready for graduation. Since it took the school longer to sort through everything, they prolonged the school year by nearly a month. A fact Peter didn’t really mind so much, but most of the other students did.

Now he’s taking everything from his locker – that wasn’t really his locker since the former one got relocated to a different student – and feels a nervous twisting in his gut. They have one last after school meeting about the Europe trip after school. After that it’s only a few more weeks before he will be going to Europe, properly this time. Pepper will come to pick him up once the meeting is done, and he will spend two weeks at the Stark’s. When May told him, Peter couldn’t help but feel like a big inconvenience as if he was a nuisance that would constantly be in the way. He didn’t say anything to May, though. She only asked him if he would mind, threw him an excited smile and told him about her plans to start with the non-profit to help all those affected by the Snap. Peter had put on a tight smile then as well. He still hadn’t talked to her about whether he would support her idea as Spider-Man or not. He keeps pushing it off. It’s just that he doesn’t want to hurt her by saying no. Peter hasn’t felt like being Spider-Man ever since that Final Battle. Ever since he nearly lost Mr Stark. Ever since he spent weeks in a hospital, his body too tired and beaten to heal fast.

But hey, life goes on.

That’s something Ned told him once, when he talked about how his Dad had cheated on his Mom. They’re a happy family once more, Mrs Leeds completely forgave her husband. Ned has his peachy home life back, doesn’t have to worry about money, or a place to life or his parents’ jobs. Everything is stable for him; he doesn’t seem to mind that he had disintegrated for five years.

So why does Peter mind so much?

“See you after school loser?” MJ snaps his locker door shut, the door rattles for a moment before settling.

“Uhm, yeah. The Europe trip meeting, right?”

For a moment it looks like MJ is about to say something else, but then she just puts her blank face on.

“Yep. Europe. Much fun. Time of our lives.”

Peter gives a nervous walk and watches MJ walk away.

*

Flash won’t stop making weird faces, all directed at Peter.

It’s hard to concentrate on what Mr Harrington is talking about at the front of the class room. They sit in a semi-circle, so all of them can face the black board. MJ is there, Ned and Flash, Betty, some other kids from their year and Brad. Brad who used to be five years younger than them and no is the same age. Brad who grew up from a nerdy kid to a handsome teen who quite obviously weightlifts. Peter could have done without Brad, could have done without the looks he keeps throwing in MJ’s direction. Before, it would have been Peter throwing those looks, but now…now he didn’t even know how he felt about himself, let alone about other people.

Mr Harrington went through the details with them once more. When they would meet at the airport, what they should pack – in his opinion they needed to bring hiking gear and at least two bottles of sunscreen – and what they should be expect the Europeans to be like.

He gave them a ridiculous crash course about Italian societal standards, e.g. if you shout at someone you like them. Told them that French people believed frog legs to be a delicacy still and if anyone was interested to try them, he would gladly find a restaurant for them. And last to not get confused by the British English as once upon a time their languages were the same and even if they say flat instead of apartment, it is still the same thing.

Peter feels his hands shake from nervousness and sits on them for the most time. It doesn’t get better when Mr Harrington tells them to pack their stuff and that he will see them soon at the airport. If there are any questions left, they should not hesitate to give him a call. Peter just got the phone number from one of his teachers saved into his phone.

“Should we try frog legs? I think we should try frog legs!” Ned can’t shut up about whether they should have frog legs or not. Peter is busy keeping his shaky hands in his pockets. “Someone told me that frog legs taste like chicken. They can’t be that bad, right? I mean chicken is great, but if it’s just the taste…what if the texture is totally off?”

Ned keeps on rambling while they leave the empty school building. Summer is finally here, and no one wanted to stick around for long after the bell rang. It feels weird leaving school like this. Peter has never been fond of the holidays. Too much time on his hands. He genuinely enjoys going to school, having quizzes and tests and exams. Learning new stuff every day. Before when he went to a normal middle school, Peter would usually get bored. Not having any science-based classes drove him mad. It was a good thing that May found Midtown for him.

“You didn’t tell me you were going to be picked up today!” There is a slight note of disapproval in Ned’s voice. Peter didn’t even notice that they have reached the parking lot where once again Pepper is waiting for him. She is in jeans and a t-shirt today. It may be summer, but it’s not that warm yet.

“Uhm yeah sorry.”

“It’s alright, I just thought you might want to hang out today? My dad got me this European Lego set, it’s supposed to be a replica of Venice and I figured we could start building that…” Ned trails off.

Peter feels a lump rise in his throat. He didn’t want to disappoint his friend.

“I-I…I’m sorry. Maybe another time?”

“Well, when will you be back? Are you just spending the weekend? We could meet up on Monday!”

“I will be there until we go to Europe. Sorry, I meant to tell you.”

“Hey loser!” Before Ned can reply anything, MJ’s voice sounds behind them. They didn’t even notice that she was behind them. Both turn around to look at her.

MJ quickly descends the steps to the parking lot, her face changing to an emotionless mask. “You guys wanna hang out or something before the trip?”

“I uhm,” they stutter in unison. “Sorry, guys I really have to go now. See you!” Before it can get even worse, Peter quickly says goodbye and jogs towards Pepper.

“Hey,” he says upon reaching her.

“Hey, do your friends need a lift?”

“N-No they’re fine. We usually take the subway…”

“Whatever you say. Come on, I have an excited girl waiting for you at home.”

Peter gets into the car and before he can look back at Ned and MJ, Pepper drives out of the parking lot and into New York’s traffic.

*

Pepper is on the phone during most of the drive, a headset stuck into one of her ears. Whatever she is talking about sounds like serious business, so Peter decides to keep quiet and watch the now familiar landscape go by.

The days are longer now, it’s truly summer, so they arrive at the cabin while it’s still light out.

Pepper turns off the engine and tells him to go ahead, she needs to finish the call first. Aunt May packed him a bag that now sits on the backseat. It’s heavier than his usual weekend bag, he’s staying for longer this time after all. Peter can’t imagine spending two weeks at the Stark’s house. He can already see it getting weird. Like a third wheel intruding on the perfect family. Well, as perfect as a family like the Starks can get. With his bag slung over his shoulder, Peter takes the steps up to the veranda and stops in front of the door. Should he knock? A wave a nervousness settles over him, making his stomach knot. It would be rude to just burst into the house, right? He throws a nervous glance over his shoulder to Pepper who gesticulates with her hands. Something Peter interprets as “go on, enter”. It’s what he does.

“H-Hello?” he calls into the empty kitchen.

“In the living room bud!”

He leaves his bag at the bottom of the staircase and ventures into the living room. Mr Stark and Morgan sit on the couch, the TV is running, but all of the attention is focused on him. Morgan jumps up and runs towards him, a big smile on her face.

“Pete!” Her small arms wrap around his leg.

“Hey, it’s good to see you too.”

“Daddy said you’re staying here for two weeks!” she grins up at him, her smile infectious. Peter can’t help but mirror it.

“Y-Yeah.”

“Alright squirt, give Peter some room. Have a seat.” Tony pads the couch in an invitation. As soon as Morgan lets go, she is back on the couch, grinning at him. “Come watch TV with us.”

They watch TV together until Pepper comes into the living room, the headset gone.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been watching TV all day!” she greets Mr Stark as well as Morgan with a kiss. “I’m going to start on dinner, before it gets too late.”

“Do you need any help?”

“If you don’t mind Peter.” For some inexplicable reason Peter couldn’t relax sitting next to Mr Stark, his eyes had been focussed on the screen, but he hadn’t seen anything. He follows Pepper into the kitchen and listens to her instructions. She shows him how to handle a knife more efficiently and has him cut up vegetables. The monotonous work helps to keep his nerves calm.

In the end it’s a simple vegetable casserole which they finish over a quiet dinner. That feeling of not belonging sits heavy in Peter’s stomach. As much as the Starks try to involve him, somehow, he still feels like he doesn’t belong. His chest aches weirdly. If only May were here now, maybe it would be better? But she was the one to send him here in the first place. Her motivations still unknown to him.

So Peter does what he can best, he endures, keeps quiet and smiles politely.

*

It’s still light out, the darkness slowly creeping in. He’s just gotten ready for bed, his mouth still tasting like minty toothpaste. It’s nice and warm in the guest room, ever since the spider bite, Peter hates cool places. His body just feels more comfortable when it’s warm.

“Can we talk?” Mr Stark stands in the doorway, his face an unreadable mask. Peter hadn’t heard him come in.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

 

“Sure.” Peter feels the first fluttering of nerves in his stomach. He swallows and scoots over on the bed to make space for the older man. Mr Stark sits down with a small grimace, turning towards Peter.

“How have you been?”

It’s an easy enough question that it throws Peter off.

“Good?”

“You don’t sound so sure about that. You’ve been quiet during dinner. Any more panic attacks?” Peter shakes his head in reply.

“Good. That’s good. Peter. How many more times do I have to tell you that you can talk to me. About everything.  I can see that something his up.” Mr Stark’s voice gets serious. Peter swallows, should he confide in Mr Stark? For once it looks like the older man will keep on digging until he finally gives up.

“It’s just…” Mr Stark’s face changes to concerned. He hates this look. Looking at his lap is much safer. “I don’t get why I’m here now. I know May is busy, but I can take care of myself. And…and I see you and your family, and it just feels like I don’t belong here, like I’m intruding.”

“Now listen closely bud, you wouldn’t be here if we didn’t want you to be here. I know for a fact that Morgan loves having you here, you’re like a big brother to her, she looks up to you. When you’re not around, she keeps on talking about you, what she is going to do with you the next time you’re around. She spends hours drawing pictures for you and then is too shy to give them to you.”

Peter can’t hide a small smile.

“And Pepper, she keeps nagging me: what kind of food will Peter want? Is he allergic to this or that? We should all do a trip to the beach and so on and so on. You’re important to her too. But most of all.” Mr Stark’s hand settles on Peter’s leg, the touch comforting even through the blanket. “I hate to admit it, but you’ve grown on me. You’re like…you know,” he seems to choke on whatever he wants to say for a moment. “Like a son to me.” Mr Stark clears his throat, a slight blush rising on his cheeks.

All of a sudden there is a giant lump in Peter’s throat. One that won’t go away.

“Which means, no more of that Mr Stark business. It’s Tony, alright? And that also means I genuinely are about you’re wellbeing. Hence my meddling in your life. If you’re not ready to talk, you’re not ready to talk. But I want you to know, no – to realize that you can always, and I mean **always** talk to me.”

“I know,” he finally gets out.

“Then why don’t you,” Mr Stark’s voice is soft. “I know talking about stuff isn’t exactly easy, but you need to at least try and open up a little bud. It’s not like anything bad is going to happen if you do.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and swallows around the lump. Whenever Peter talks about what happened it feels like the following nightmares get much worse. The thing is: he still can’t remember everything that happened during the final battle. Some bits and pieces are missing. And no matter how hard he tries to remember; nothing comes to him.

“It’s just…I don’t know where to start and…I don’t really remember what happened and…”

“Hey, hey it’s okay. Take a deep breath. Maybe no more talking tonight, alright? You pop into bed and we will see about tomorrow.” Mr Stark squeezes his leg and throws him an encouraging smile. Although Peter can see the worry in the older man’s eyes, he doesn’t say anything. He just nods his head and watches him leave, closing the door softly behind him.

*

He swings through the air, no it’s more like flying. Yes, he’s flying, air whipping against his mask. He knows this feeling, he’s in his suit. But why is he in his suit? It’s the middle of the night, he’s supposed to be upstate at Mr Stark’s cabin…

Noises rush towards his ears. Cries and blasts and such a loud ruckus that Peter immediately knows what is going on: it’s the final battle again. Which can’t be. That was five months ago. He can’t be here right now. Still, he is sailing through the air, swinging from one place to the other. He hasn’t felt like this in quiet some time. Hasn’t felt the air whipping against his mask-clad face; the feeling of being airborne. Gradually, things change. He becomes more aware of his body, of tiny pains and aches; becomes aware of his heart pounding against his ribcage. He’s breathless, why? He doesn’t know.

Peter tries to see someone he knows, but cannot focus, his senses super alert. There is an enemy flying towards him and there is no thought in his head as he strikes out. His head doesn’t even turn when he sees the body falling. Did he just kill someone? He doesn’t know and deep inside, he doesn’t care. The thought would scare him, if it hadn’t been replaced by something else. It’s like Peter is not the one in control of his own body. He doesn’t decide where he is moving, what he is doing. Did he active kill mode again? But when did he do that?

“Karen?” His voice sounds thin, carried away by the wind. “Karen!” He tries again louder, but there is no response.

Then suddenly, there is a shift. Peter feels his body become heavy, a second later he feels something around his leg. When he looks down there is nothing. But he can see the ground getting closer, coming towards him. He flicks out his arm, tries to shoot out a web to stop his freefall. His suit is not working.

“Karen!?” he tries again, panic lacing his voice.

His body hits the ground, bones cracking, stones ripping in his skin. Then something comes crashing down on him, burying him and Peter screams-

*

“Hey, hey! I got you, it’s okay, I got you!” Someone rocks him back and forth. Peter can’t see, can’t breathe, can’t think. A moment ago, he was falling, his body was broken. Now the only memory is the shadow of pain deep inside of him.

The rocking motion continues.

Peter feels weirdly disconnected from his body, his mind can’t seem to make up any thoughts, he’s crying and there is still the phantom pain. Rushing in his ears and pounding in his heart.

All the while the shushing and whispered “okays” continue. It’s safe and dark and Peter feels himself slipping away, his eyes closing and then sleep claims him.

*

Bright light hits his eyes and Peter squeezes them shut again. For once, he feels well rested. It’s the first day of summer holidays. There is no school to worry about, no teachers, no Flash. At least until the Europe trip, then there will be teachers and sadly, Flash as well.

Peter slowly opens his eyes again and pushes the blanket away. It already feels warm, it would probably be a hot day.

“Had a good time, sleeping beauty?” Mr Stark is there, next to the bed, his face tired and in his bed clothes.

“Uh what are you doing there?”

“You woke up screaming in the middle of the night. So, I stayed to keep you some company bud.”

“Oh…did I wake anyone?” Peter feels shame creeping over him. He hates it when he screams during a nightmare.

“Don’t worry about that. I would rather like to know,” Mr Stark leans forward “what kind of dream had you screaming like that?”

“I-I think I remembered. Some bits and pieces from you know…the final battle.”

Mr Stark makes a go on gesture.

“I’ve been having trouble remembering what exactly happened.”

“So what did happen?” Mr Stark’s voice is laced with curiosity. “What happened in your dream?”

Peter swallows.

“I only ever see bits and pieces,” he starts. “It’s never conclusive like, one moment I’m in the air and the next on the ground. And there are all these people and blurry faces and I can feel pain sometimes and-“

“Jesus, Peter take a breath. It’s alright to pause between two sentences.”

He does exactly what he is told, breathing in deeply and exhaling.

“I-I well, I think I’m so scared of these dreams, because I don’t remember what part of them is true and which one is not and whether it actually happened. . . “

“So, during this dream. . .?”

“I was in the air first, and then I hurt, and I was falling. I tried to talk to Karen, but she did not react. I hate it, that feeling of falling and knowing that I won’t be able to stop.”

Mr Stark keeps quiet for a moment, no doubt the cogs in his head whirring. “You’re swinging around New York’s tallest buildings but are afraid of falling?”

“Ever since that plane crash because of the Vulture, it’s just. . . it feels different. That time the falling actually hurt.”

“You never told me what really happened that day.”

Peter closes off, he doesn’t want to talk about it. About how Mr Stark didn’t believe in him and he had felt like he needed to take matters into his own hands. How he had nearly been shot in front of his school, nearly been crushed by a toppling building, nearly died from falling and then in a fire. It was one of the things Peter didn’t like to think about. And something must have shown on his face as Mr Stark threw him a sympathetic look.

“That’s something we will be discussing another time. I just want to make sure you’re okay for now, bud.” Peter nods, forcing his lips to smile. “Why don’t you get changed, have some breakfast and then help me out with preparing for the party on Monday.”

“P-Party? What party?”

“Cap’s birthday of course,” Mr Starks smile at him, before leaving the guestroom.

*

Peter feels better as soon as he steps out of the shower and into fresh clothes. There is a stack of pancakes waiting for him in the kitchen and he doesn’t mind that they are not completely hot anymore. Morgan and Pepper are outside, he can see them through the open door. He has no idea where Mr Stark is, nor what he should be helping with exactly. May and he had a routine for the fourth of July; have some ice cream, watch some fireworks on TV. If the weather is good, they sometimes did barbecue in the park. Celebrating this year was the furthest from his mind. It’s not like the fourth was his favourite holiday, he is more of a Christmas person, if he had to choose. Alas, seeing as it is Captain America’s birthday, he should have expected something to happen.

Before he finishes his pancake, Mr Stark comes into the kitchen, a stack of papers underneath his arms.

“You ready for some tinkering?” He slaps the papers on the table and sits down opposite of Peter. “This dear old Cap is turning what- a hundred this year, I figured we should celebrate with a big boom. I’ve made these blueprints for some fireworks…”

Peter listens closely and looks through Mr Stark’s plans. He’s never done fireworks before. Working with explosives doesn’t sound like much fun and more like something is bound to go wrong. Immensely wrong. Still, he listens until Mr Stark is done explaining the plans to him and leans back in his chair, looking at Peter expectantly.

“Uhm, are you sure you want to build your own fireworks?”

“Yep, done it before. But I want it to be bigger this time. Trust me, it’s totally safe. Now finish that pancake and we can get started in my workshop.”

Peter swallows, eyes roaming over the papers. It really doesn’t sound like a good idea, but what is he to do about it? Mr Stark has already made up his mind.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

 

Tony doesn’t know how many hours he spent in front of the screen. He searched parenting guide after parenting guide only. Peter will be there for a good two weeks. Two weeks Tony can use to get the boy on the right track, to get him to open up and talk to him. To make him get better.

He’s discussed this with May in length before. It’s not really his place to meddle, they’re not related after all, but Tony feels like Peter is – and he hates to admit it – his son. They don’t share the same blood, but the teenager has grown on him. Ever since he saw those puppy eyes in Queens, what feels like forever ago. The boy was clever, is still clever, some part of Tony sees himself in him. A younger version of him, curious and innocent. Because that’s what Peter was or used to be. Nowadays there was a dark shadow moving behind those eyes, one Tony wanted to get rid of as soon as possible. Hence the hourlong search online. If a therapist didn’t help, then he would have to find a way to help the teenager on his own. He had May’s okay to do whatever necessary to help him get better and that’s what he was going to try and do.

He watches Peter from the corner of his eye, the bend head, the quiet determination to finish the firework. It’s a simple prototype Tony has used before for Cap’s birthday. Easy to make, safe to explode. The look on Peter’s face when he told him that they would be making the fireworks themselves. . .it was a look Tony would likely remember for some time. Those big eyes staring at him. Still, Peter followed his lead, and did how he was told. Whether that was a good thing or not, Tony couldn’t tell.

Whenever it comes to parties, Tony is usually the one to just throw them, the whole planning thing is done by Pepper. She is just better at these kinds of things. As per usual, he is in charge for the entertainment only. Pepper is taking care of the food, invites, gifts and so on. What do you even give to a former frozen soldier who used to live in the 1940s? Tony had an idea for a new shield, has had the plans safely stowed away in one of his drawers. And then shit went down and it doesn’t look like either of them ever wants to face a fight again.

Which might be for the best, Tony has to admit, considering that he is partially paralyzed and covered in burn scars that still ache randomly. Peter seems to be a little better off, his body is still young and not as battered as his. Although he now wears his own faint scars, crisscrossing over his arms, there is even one on the back of his neck that Tony wonders how it got there in the first place. Its not for the first time that he wonders, how much his mind is scarred now, how much the teenager is truly hiding. As he stands there concentrating hard on the work before him, it almost feels like he is a normal guy. But Tony knows that something is up. Even if he doesn’t know how to make it better just yet.

“Is something wrong?” Peter throws him a look, his hands stopping their work. “You’ve been staring at me for a few minutes now…”

“Oh, sorry. I was lost in thought. How is it going?” For Peter to point out his staring like that… he takes a step towards him and looks at what he’s managed to do so far. “Looking good kid. I should just let you make all of the fireworks.” To be honest, Peter seems to be even quicker with his fingers than Tony used to be when he still had full use of both hands.

“I’m not quite sure these will work. . . “ Peter comments unsurely.

“We should just give them a try then, shouldn’t we?”

*

Pepper has a tight hold on Morgan as they stand on the veranda, a safe distance away from where Tony and Peter are busy setting up the first of the fireworks. It is actually a good idea to try the first ones out before building more. Just in case Tony’s design is faulty. Which, thank you very much, never is of course. Maybe a little offkey, but never faulty enough to not be fixable.

“Isn’t it kind of a waste to use the materials like this?”

“Don’t worry, they are reusable. I think it is high time for a demonstration if you do not believe me.” Tony throws Peter a smile, which does nothing to calm the nervous teenager down. The design Tony used for his fireworks consists of a cylindrical shape made from high tech material which in theory should shoot the actual firecracker inside into the sky. He’s been fiddling with a design for some time now, one that will keep the outer cylinder intact while blasting and lighting the firework. That way one can use them for many times instead of once. If one can use a gun several times why shouldn’t there be a similar concept for fireworks?

Also, the design allows him to start the fireworks with a remote which is definitely safer than having to use a lighter or matches. Kids tend to play with matches. Especially grown up kids like Sam. And if Tony doesn’t want his whole house to burn down, he should try to make the fireworks Sam-proof.

“Now let’s take a step back and, do you want to do the honours of pushing the button?” Tony shoves the small remote at Peter who stares at it for a second before taking it carefully. It’s basically made up of just one button, not a big red one, no that wouldn’t be Sam-proof. It’s a plain black button that could mean anything, could be a button for anything.

“Ready when you are.” Tony studies Peter; watches him stare at the button and slowly move his thumb over it. Hovering for a second and then quickly push down as if afraid the remote would explode in his hand.

For a few moments nothing seems to happen.

“Is everything alright?” Pepper shouts from the veranda.

“Peachy, honey!” Tony shouts back, concentrating on the fireworks in front of them. So far they hadn’t blown up into their faces, but they hadn’t done anything else either. . .

“Mr Stark, I thin-“ A loud shot rang, the smell of smoke filled the air and then the blue sky seemed to explode with small silver lights. The first firework was followed by another and another. They had only made three for now, but it looked very well like they were doing what they were supposed to do. Tony throws a look down to the cylinders, all seem to have kept their shape.

“Now it looks like you’ve been doing something right buddy.” He claps Peter on the shoulder and gives him a gentle squeeze.

*

They spent the rest of the day in the workshop, building more cylinders and spending time on the actual fireworks. Tony doesn’t plan on a giant firework, not like the ones many Americans will be seeing at their country clubs, but he stills aims to go for a decent size. Besides the work keeps Peter occupied and seems to take the teens mind off things. They don’t talk but listen to music instead. Tony bobs his head from time to time, mouths the lyrics if he knows and likes them. It’s good work they’re doing. Pepper comes in around noon, Morgan on her heels, bearing sandwiches and lemonade. Tony hasn’t even noticed how hot it had gotten in his workshop. He forces Peter to take a break, the kids hands black with smeared oil, but the relaxed look he has on his face is all Tony could have hoped for. For the first time in forever, Peter seems to be hungry, wolfing down the sandwich and finishing another one within a matter of minutes all washed down with two glasses of lemonade.

They work until early evening when Tony declares them to be finished. They collect the plates and glasses and head upstairs.

Pepper is in the kitchen preparing dinner, Morgan sits at the table doing sudoku. His clever little girl.

“Sit down, sit down. Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes and you look like you need a break. Got everything ready for tomorrow?”

Peter drops into a chair, _his_ chair, Tony notes and scrubs his hands through his hair. Ever since Peter had started spending time with them, he chose this specific chair. It’s his place at their table and Tony can’t help but feel his heart swelling. Even if that sounds sappy to him.

“All the fireworks are ready; we can set up everything outside tomorrow and should be good to go on Monday.”

“Sounds good to me. I will get started on the food prep, maybe make a cake for Steve?”

“He usually gets a store bought one. . . they all the American flags on them so it kinda fits the good old cap.”

“Or, I can just bake one which will be nicer and taste better.”

“Whatever you say, honey.”

Tony throws a sideward glance to Peter, only to see the teenager leaning back in his chair, eyes closed. His chest is rising slowly, up and down. The kid looks younger asleep, more at rest than he does during the day. He did look better in the workshop already, his face not as troubled. But seeing him like this, gets Tony right in the feels again.

If only Peter would look like this all the time.

The familiar worry creeps back into him, worry that he was able to keep at bay during the day and now seems to want to make a comeback.

“Should we wake him?” Pepper whispers above Morgan’s head. Once, Tony would have brought the teenager upstairs, now with his useless arm that will be impossible.

Somewhere in the background a timer dings, startling Peter awake.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing out of his mouth, eliciting a laugh from Pepper and Morgan.

“Nothing to apologize for buddy. Let’s get some food into you and I think it’s time for bed.” Peter throws him a sheepish look.

“Do I have to go to bed early too Daddy?” Morgan asks sweetly. Pepper laughs again, and gets out the plates for dinner.

They have a nice quiet meal throughout which Peter keeps yawning. He is the first to go upstairs after dinner while Tony helps Pepper clean the kitchen and then snuggles down in front of the TV with Morgan for a bit.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

 

It’s the morning of the 4th and Peter wakes up with gritty eyes and a headache. Most of the night was spent turning from one side to the other, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He doesn’t like to admit it, but Peter is worried. The Avengers, or what used to be the Avengers, will be here today for not only the usual 4th July celebrations, but also Captain America’s birthday. Peter’s met the man a couple of times, and still cannot get over his awe for him. When he asked Mr Stark the day before who would be coming, the older man only threw him a secretive smile. He would find out later. Another thing adding to his anxiety.

Since there is no use trying to get any more sleep, Peter pushes the blanket away, grabs a change of clothes and heads for the shower. It’s still early, the house awfully quiet as he tiptoes downstairs, hair still wet, into the kitchen. He knows by now where everything is, and despite not being hungry, fixes himself a bowl of cereal. Instead of eating at the table, Peter unlocks the back door and steps onto the veranda.

The air is crisp, but already promising to be warmer later on.

He settles on the steps, putting his bowl of cereal next to him for a few minutes so the milk can soak  through. The sky is a light blue, not a cloud in sight. Peter closes his eyes for a moment and strains his ears for any sound; there is the low rustling of leaves, a bird singing far away and if he concentrates, he can hear the waves of the lake lapping at the sand.

It’s quiet, quiet and peaceful. If only every day could be like this, he muses, then maybe he could forget what happened and begin anew. But that’s not how his life is going to be, Peter just knows it. Sometimes it feels like the next bad thing is only waiting to happen. Even with his spider sense not working properly, it is only a matter of time until something happens. It’s a good thing he hasn’t been working as Spider-Man for some time now. If he had picked up his second persona, who knows in what kind of trouble he would be in right now.

It feels like only last year when he fought the Vulture; when asking Liz out to homecoming was the only thing on his mind. More than five years had passed. Not for the first time Peter wonders what his life would be like right now if he had stayed and not vanish. He would be close to graduating college, maybe have a girlfriend, a job on the side. Maybe there wouldn’t even be a reason for him to be Spider-Man anymore and he would just live a normal life like 99% of the human population. If he is being honest, Peter doesn’t really miss being Spider-Man, at least not at the moment. It always put pressure one him, having to go out after school and still focus on schoolwork and his social life at the same time.

Now at least it’s a little- who is he kidding. Life is definitely not relaxed right now. Peter knows this deep down, knows that he has to change something. The only question is what is he supposed to change if he can’t even handle a normal day without being like this? His head still hurts, which probably won’t get better with the party coming up.

With his cereal now perfectly soaked through, Peter pushes any and all thoughts away and digs in, going through the motions he has learnt at an early age. It doesn’t taste like much in his mouth, only sweet and sugary, but it’s something and he won’t have to worry about rejecting Pepper’s no doubt fancy breakfast later.

It still feels surreal to be here. He cannot forget what Mr Stark told him only a few days ago. Whether he likes it or not, he seems to be part of this family. His gut clenches. If only May could be here today, but she has a shift at the hospital and is busy setting up her NGO. So Peter will probably see her shortly before he goes on the Europe trip and not before. Which should be okay, he is nearly grown-up now anyways. Alas, his heart constricts at the thought.

*

“And you’re sure you don’t want to have anything else? No pancakes? Eggs? Another bowl of cereal?” Pepper’s eyes bore into him. Peter is sure that if he doesn’t reply verbally in a negative, she will force more food on him.

“I’m good. I don’t want to eat too much before the barbecue.” He’s answered in the same way five times already, and only now does it look like Pepper will let the issue rest.

“Well, you know where everything is, in case you feel hungry.” She returns on flipping another pancake for Morgan who sits in her usual spot at the table. The little girl is partly dressed in her pyjamas, partly dressed in a 4th July party outfit, red-white-and-blue tutu and hairclips that try to tame her bedhead. Next to her is Mr Stark, already on his second cup of coffee, trying to read the newspaper on his tablet and keep a hold of his coffee cup with just one hand at the same time.

“Do you uhm, want me to get started outside?” He feels out of place once more, the need to be of use overcoming him.

“There’s plenty of time for that later, have a seat.”

Rather unwillingly Peter sits down at the table, has a glass of juice placed in front of him before he can protest and waits. The small radio is on somewhere playing American songs about America. It’s a nice background noise, one that doesn’t bother him too much. Pepper keeps flipping pancakes, Mr Stark continues to read his newspaper and Morgan plays with the blueberries on her plate.

It very much feels like a family morning, one that for once, Peter doesn’t feel like he is intruding on. At least not much. Maybe a little. But somehow, he also feels like he is at home here.

*

“Is there anything else that needs to go outside?” So far Peter has brought out all the dishes and cutlery, all recyclable. As well as cups and napkins and all those little titbits one needs on a table during a barbecue. The actual food is to be brought out before they start putting the meat on, despite the salad bowls and bread rolls already standing on the kitchen table.

“When the first guest arrives, and Tony gets the grill started we can bring out some of those dishes. Otherwise I think we are pretty much done. Thank you for your help Peter.” Pepper pushes a stay piece of hair out of her way; she spent most of the morning in the kitchen completing whatever needed completing and now has a flustered look on her face. “Why don’t you go outside and see if Tony needs any help?” It’s a clear dismissal, so Peter dutifully heads outside and around the house to where everything is set up.

“Do you need any help?”

Mr Stark’s back is turned to him, he’s busy setting up the grill.

“I think. . . we’re actually done here.” He turns around to Peter, a grin on his face. “Are you ready for some barbecue?”

Peter wants everyone’s good mood to infect him, for whatever reason the only thing he can think off is a shoulder shrug. His headache has slowly become worse, not that he is going to say anything about it.

“Come one, you can do better than this bud. It will be fun, trust me.” Mr Stark’s smile doesn’t waver, Peter attempts one of his own which seems to placate the older man.

The sound of a car reaches them; wheels driving slowly over the gravel leading up to the house.

“Let’s see who that is.” Mr Stark steps to him, places on hand on his back and gives him a little push as they walk around the corner of the house. Just as they gain full view of the driveway a silver car emerges. Peter immediately feels his nerves spiking. He pushes the feeling down as best as he can and puts on his smile. It feels even more brittle than usual, but it will have to do during the day. The car parks under a line of trees. The engine is turned off and then the doors open.

“Good to see you Cap.” Mr Stark greats Captain Rogers with a hug, followed by a hug with Falcon.

“Hey there Peter,” Captain Rogers greets him with a flashy smile.

“Uhm h-hello,” he can’t help but stammer.

“Sam you remember Peter?” Mr Stark’s voice breaks through the wall that suddenly sprung up in Peter’s mind. He has no idea how to address any of Mr Stark’s guests today. He will probably make a big fool out of himself.

“Yep. Good to see you in one piece kid.”

“I thought I heard a car. It’s good to see you.” Pepper steps down towards them, Morgan in tow who is now in her full 4th July outfit, everything is red, white and blue. Both men are greeted with hugs by Pepper and little handshakes from Morgan. Even a five-year-old knows better how to behave around guests. Peter can feel the flush rising in his cheeks. It’s going to be a long day.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

 

“Is he okay?” Steve, ever the worrier, is the first to say something.

Tony has been keeping a close eye on Peter ever since their last guest arrived. He sees the teenager struggling, trying to keep a brittle smile on his face while talking to everyone.

“He seems awfully. . .twitchy.” Strange sidles up to them, a glass of wine in his scarred hand. Tony doesn’t really know the man but feels like he owed him an invitation after everything he did during the Final Battle. To his astonishment, the invitation was accepted with a plus one. Dr Palmer – call me Christine – sits next to Peter at the table, talking to him like someone would talk to a scared puppy. Or at least it looks like it from afar.

“Skittish?” Steve supplies and Tony can only nod.

“He’s been going through some stuff.”

“Stuff?” Steve throws him a look. That knowing look, he has seen so many times before on his face. Tony sighs inwardly. “Kid has been struggling with coming to terms about what happened.”

“PTSD?”

“Well, we tried a therapist, but that didn’t work out. . .”

“Who is we?” It’s Steve who catches him out immediately, like always.

“His aunt and me.”

“You know, we never did get into the details of your relationship. . .”

“He’s kind of part of the family, okay?” If he could, Tony would be crossing his arms in front of his chest now, alas he cannot. Having his friends around him, doesn’t make him any less self-conscious about the scars on his face and his paralyzed right arm. There must have been something showing through his voice as the other two men keep quiet for a moment.

It’s Steven who eventually breaks the silence.

“What are his symptoms?”

“Nightmares, withdrawal from friends and family, he’s become a recluse of sorts. Nonexhibiting appetite, nervousness. . .” There is so much more Tony has noticed; the pained look Peter sometimes wears on his face, the forced smiles, the trembling in his hands that he always tries to hide.

“Sounds like a clear case of PTSD to me. That boy,” Strange points his wine glass in Peter’s direction, “should be seeing a professional.”

“You can’t force him-“ Steve begins and is immediately shut down.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing Mr Rogers? A teenager on the brink of collapse whose body and mind would have probably already shut down if it weren’t for whatever powers he possess.”

Strange has a point, Tony can agree to that. However, what is he supposed to do? Peter didn’t like the therapist they send him too; he barely opens up to Tony, doesn’t at all with May. If he is unwilling to trust them, how is he supposed to trust a stranger.

“It’s also stubbornness keeping him going.” If it wasn’t such a bad situation, Tony might have smiled.

It was at this moment that Dr Palmer decided to join them, a frown on her face. The way she looked at Strange, told Tony enough about their relationship. Even when Strange had introduced her as a colleague. Dr Palmer cuts straight to the point.

“I think Peter shouldn’t be here Tony.” Her voice bodes trouble, she sounds exactly like Pepper when she is about to scold him. “His pupils are dilated, and he seems to be under a great deal of stress. As a doctor, I have to advise you to bring him inside.” She says it as if Peter is a small child unable to take care of himself. “What’s his diagnosis?” Her gaze settles on Strange.

“From what Stark here has shared with us. . . PTSD.”

Dr Palmer nods in consent. “I would have said something similar. And I really do think he shouldn’t be out here right now.”

“Why? Wouldn’t it be better for him not to be alone?” Steve’s brows are so close together, his whole face portraying his worry. Tony’s heart clenches. These people barely know Peter and still they care about him.

“PTSD can be different for everyone,” Tony starts. He’s read so much about the topic; he feels like he knows the illness inside out. “When I had it, I absolutely had to be around people. For others, its more like they want to be left alone. It seems I wrongly assumed Peter and I were the same.”

He throws a look towards the teenager who sits alone at the table, shoulders hunched, and face pale.

“I would love to have another talk later on Dr Pa - Christine. If you would excuse me.” It’s his cue to leave the guests alone for a few minutes. Peter should be his priority right now. Dr Palmer was right, he does look like he is struggling right now. Tony should have seen it sooner.

As soon as he is at the table, he slides on the bench next to Peter, who doesn’t even notice him sitting down.

“Hey kiddo. I think we should go inside for a bit.” There is no use talking around the subject.

“Oh,” Peter looks up, only now realising he is not alone anymore.

“Common, let’s go inside.”

“B-But the guests. . .the party-“

“Don’t worry, we won’t be gone long. You’ve been out all day, some shade-“ Tony cuts himself off. He shouldn’t be lying. Least of all to Peter who’s trust seems to be the only thing strong about him right now. Everything else seems to be crumbling around the teenager.

Without another question asked, Peter follows Tony as he walks inside, none of the guests making a comment as to where they are going. Although Tony meets Pepper’s eyes for a moment. She will know not to worry.

*

It’s cooler inside the house, the air washing over him and giving him goosebumps for a moment. Tony sits down in his favourite armchair and waits while Peter reluctantly settles down on the sofa. The expression on the teenager’s face can only be described as stressed, also apprehensive as if he is worried something bad will happen now. As if Peter could ever do anything wrong to make him angry. Well, the whole incident with the Vulture aside of course.

And the going to space incident.

And all the stunts he pulled during the final battle, making Tony feel like his heart would burst out of his chest due to anxiety.

The fact that Peter seems to be dreading something alone makes his heart constrict once more. One of these days the kid will give him a heart attack. Or a stomach ulcer. Or whatever one can get from worrying too much.

“It’s alright kid, I just wanted a moment to talk to you.” Despite trying to sound reassuring, Peters shoulders slump. “I’m just- just going to be honest with you now, okay? Like we talked about being able to talk to each other and stuff.”

He takes a deep breath.

“Dr Palmer, Christine, the woman who was talking to you outside? Well, she said it looked like you were not. . . feeling well?” Tony hates how much he stumbles over his words, how he seems to be unable to form a decent sentence. Much like Peter seems to be having trouble with sometimes. Two peas in a pod.

“So, are you okay?” As soon as the question leaves his mouth, he feels stupid. Of course Peter is not okay, it will be a long time before the teenager will feel okay again. A shrug is the only reply he gets. A clear sign that Peter is indeed not okay.

“Alright buddy, how about you take a little break in your room and I will get you as soon as we get the fireworks started?” Peter’s face seems to pale even more. “And this is not like a punishment or anything? Okay?” Tony scrambles to find the right words. “It’s a break. There is a lot of people outside and I know this can be overwhelming. . .” and he is rambling again. _Well done Tony, well done_.

“If you need anything,” he gets out of his armchair and crosses the distance between them. “I’m outside, but you can also text me, I have my phone right here.” Tony pats the pocket of his jeans in emphasis before putting his hand on Peter’s hunched shoulder. He gives a gentle squeeze, waits a few moments for some kind of reply that never comes and then leaves.

Tony throws one last look over his shoulder, sees how Peter seems to be taking a deep breath, but otherwise doesn’t move.

*

“Is Peter okay?”

It’s the first thing Pepper asks him, as he steps up behind her and throws his good arm over her waist. She is busy relieving Wong of his meat turning duty, the Asian warrior now sits at the table devouring spare ribs.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I told him to take a break. He seemed stressed. I will get him as soon as we start the fireworks. Where is Morgan?”

He cannot see his daughter between any of their guests. Sam and Wong seem to have started a hotdog

eating contest; Strange and Dr Palmer are sharing a drink; Steve sits on the veranda a deep frown in his face. Then there is Happy, who stands at the treeline and seems to be looking at something.

“What’s up?”

Happy says nothing as Tony steps next to him, only raises his glass to point. There next to her playhouse, is Bruce, sitting at a low table together with two of Morgan’s stuffed animals while she is pouring imaginary tea into cups. Another one his smart girl wrapped around her finger.

“How long have they been at it?”

“Half an hour, looks like he’s enjoying it as well.” And it was true, Bruce seemed to be calm and relaxed around his daughter; playing along with a smile on his lips. “How is Peter doing?”

It’s that dreaded question again. Everyone seems to be asking about it today. Alas, it is obvious that something is off with the teenager.

“May mentioned that he was staying at your place, but wouldn’t elaborate why.”

“First of all, when have you been talking to May Parker?” Tony raises an eyebrow in his friend’s direction. “Secondly, I don’t really know what to tell you. Peter is obviously not fine. He’s been having some trouble processing what happened and well, May and I came to an agreement that it might be better for him to be here supervised instead of alone at home. . .”

“Trouble processing? Like you did after Afghanistan? Some kind of PTSD?”

“Yep.” He pops the ‘p’.

“I don’t mean to get involved or anything, but how is Peter being here going to help him. I’m pretty sure one should be seeing a therapist if they have PTSD.” Happy throws him a look, one that reads as: you had PTSD and should have been seeing a therapist, but you never did and look what happened to you in the end.

“We did try sending him to one, it just didn’t work out. I’m kinda trying to get him to talk to me now, to you know, trust me.”

“Hmph.”

“I was actually going to talk to Dr Strange about it, or Dr Palmer. Maybe one of them can offer me some advice on the matter.”

For a long moment Happy doesn’t answer, he keeps staring straight ahead, watching Morgan and Bruce have their little tea party. Tony is about to turn around and leave when he does speak up again.

“I know you care about Peter, a lot. But don’t forget that he’s not your responsibility, okay? What I’m trying to say is: don’t get too involved.”

Tony doesn’t know what to make out of what his best friend just said. Without replying he goes back to the house, ready for a talk with Dr Strange.

 

 


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

 

“That first time he came here, he told me that he doesn’t know what’s real anymore. His dreams have become so vivid, he has seen you manipulate reality and worries that Thanos could do the same. That maybe he is trapped in an alternate universe where the final battle didn’t happen. It’s hard for him to make a difference between his dreams and what is happening now. I guess it’s mostly because he doesn’t remember much of what happened during the final battle.” Tony takes a sip of his soda. He’s sitting on the veranda with Strange who looks so different in his normal clothing that Tony can nearly forget about the man being a wizard or whatever he likes to call himself.

“Peter not remembering part of what happened could be a protection mechanism of his brain. The events were too much for him, so his brain is shutting them out to protect him. Does he have a lot of nightmares?”

“I think so? Like I said, he doesn’t really talk about them. . .” Tony leans forward. If he could he would put his face in his hands. Alas his burned arm is once again in a sling close to his chest. He doubts that he will ever regain feeling in this limb.

“Do you know why we usually forget about what we dreamed? That is indeed a brain mechanism to help us decide what is reality and what fantasy. It keeps us from getting a psychosis. If Peter is unable to tell the differences, then it is likely he has already developed a mild psychosis and will have to be treated for that as well.”

“And how do you think we should do that? I told him once that this was reality when he was on the verge of a panic attack. But how can I be sure that it gets through to him?”

Strange keeps quiet for a moment, contemplating. The others are involved in a game of cards, Bruce still keeping busy with Morgan at her playhouse.

“Maybe I should talk to him, show him the parallel realities.”

“Do you think that is safe?”

“One can never know. However, it might give him a grasp of the layers of this world. In the parallels the truth is always shown, they cannot be easily manipulated by anyone.”

“You mean, he would see if this reality was manipulated if he went into another one?”

“Correct. The realities are all on top of each other, like layers. If you remove one, you can see the one underneath-”

“I’m not sure we should do this. . .”

“It could be a first step. He will still need therapy; Peter will only fully heal if he remembers the final battle and everything that happened. Otherwise his brain is going to catch in a loop. His dreams are part memory, his brain trying to piece together what happened. He’s probably scared to face what the events.”

Tony hums in reply. He’s seen Peter on the verge of a panic attack, seen him actually have one, seen him crying. It feels like he is once again letting Peter down. Just when he disintegrated on Nowhere; when he ceased to exist.

“I might have to talk it through with his aunt. And Peter would have to agree to it.”

Strange nods. “You know where to find me in New York. I’m sure Christine could find a good therapist for you; one Peter feels comfortable with. A therapist would be a big step in the right direction.”

“I wonder if Peter would be open for that. . . seeing as he didn’t like the first one at all.”

“Did he tell you why?”

Tony can only shake his head. It has been hard to get the teenager to open at all, talking about the botched attempt at therapy was a whole other issue.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but we should start with the cake soon.” Pepper’s interruption is welcome to Tony.

“I’m going to get Peter. Why don’t you get the cake ready hon?”

*

It’s quiet upstairs. So quiet in fact that he wonders if the teenagers has fallen asleep. If that were the case, he’s not sure if he should wake Peter up or not. On the one hand there will be cake and fireworks, on the other Peter sure could do with some more sleep these days.

First, Tony softly at the door.

There is no reply for a moment, then another goes by. He knocks again and enters. To his surprise Peter sits on the bed, his back against the headboard, a book in his lap. The bedside lamp is switched on, throwing small shadows in the teenager’s face. When did it get so dark outside?

“Hey, we’re doing the fireworks soon in case you want to come downstairs.”

Peter startles, the book on his lap falling shut with a snap.

“You okay?” Tony can’t help but worry. Peter’s hair is tousled, the covers rumpled; as if he did sleep for some time.

“Y-Yeah. I’m good. Will be there in a second.” He throws him a small smile, one of those that look more forced than natural.

“See you in five bud.” Pulling the door shut behind him, Tony cards his good hand through his hair. To be honest, he is too tired to figure anything out today. There is the matter of Strange’s offer, Peter’s mental health, Steve’s birthday to think off. . . If he doesn’t wake up with a head full of grey hair tomorrow, he would be surprised.

*

It’s ten minutes before Peter sheepishly comes out to join the others. Morgan is happy to see him, having finished playing with Bruce who know sits at the table looking relaxed and talking to Rhodey. Pepper is already in the kitchen, getting the cake ready.

“Do you want to do the honours?” Tony wants to hand Peter the remote for the fireworks, but he shakes his head.

“I would much rather just watch.”

“Suit yourself kid.” Peter scuttles off to sit next to Morgan at the table who immediately starts chatting with him.

Dusk is nearly turning into night; the sky is separated in different layers of colour, blue, purple and orange. The perfect time to bring out the cake and start the fireworks.

When he sees Pepper waving at him from the kitchen window, Tony presses the button. He waits. One second, two seconds, three, four, five- the first firework blasts into the sky and explodes in an array of colours. Silence descends, then the first sounds of amazement. Morgan happily claps into her hands. Tony smiles at his daughter, smiles at Peter sitting next to her a look of awe on his face. The next firework goes off, timed perfectly just as he planned it.

Pepper emerges from the house, her special American flag birthday cake balanced in her arms. They are long past the age of singing Happy Birthday, but Steve is all smiles when Pepper puts the cake down in front of him. The whole top is covered in candles, too many to count them.

“Happy birthday Steve!” She smiles at him, the light of the candles reflected on her face. Over them another firework goes off, colouring everyone in a gentle red glow.

Tony looks at his friends, his family and then to his battered arm. This is what he fought for, for these moments of happiness in his life.

*

“It was a good evening.” Pepper smiles, her hand carding through his hair. They are tucked into bed, lying on their sides and facing each other. It’s close to three in the morning. Morgan went out like a light four hours ago, the first to fall asleep. After the cake and fireworks, they had another round of barbecue before getting into drinks and games. Not that Tony had any, he’s done with drinking. But Pepper and Christine shared a few glasses of wine and Rhodey would never say no to a good scotch. Some time after midnight Peter went upstairs and slowly their guests left as well. Tony and Pepper spent another hour cuddled up on the veranda, looking at the mess they would have to clean away at the next day before retiring. Morgan would hopefully sleep in, giving them some time to catch up on sleep as well.

“Steve looked like he had a good time.” Tony knew that he could get grumpy about his birthday, being frozen and thawed does that to someone.

“What did you talk about with Stephen and Christine?” As always, Pepper is on first name basis with everyone.

“Peter.”

“And?”

“Doc made a suggestion on how to treat him. I will give May a call tomorrow.”

“He looked a little pale today.” She carefully tucks a strand of hair behind his ear.

“We will figure something out. It might just take some time.”

“And time we’ve got.” Pepper covers the distance and gives Tony a lingering kiss. “But I think for tonight we should call it a night- morning? And go to sleep.”

“You’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

*

Morgan woke them up at nine, demanding breakfast despite the double barbecue they had the day before. Tony struggled blearily out of bed, telling Pepper to stay for another hour or so. He could be the one taking care of their daughter for once.

It’s a cereal morning, so Tony makes Morgan a bowl of her favourites and makes himself a coffee. From the kitchen window he can easily see what they will have to clean up sooner rather than later.

The house is completely quiet as he sips at his coffee; Pepper will come down in an hour or so, Peter is possibly still asleep. Or at least Tony hopes so.

“Do you want to play a fun game after breakfast?”  Morgan immediately perks up. “What kind of game daddy?”

“It’s called-“ Tony has to think for a moment. “Who is the fastest?”

“What kind of game is it?” Even the lame title doesn’t seem to kill any of his daughter’s enthusiasm.

“It’s a game where one has to be faster than the other in something.”

“Like eating cereal?”

“Yes. Or picking up stuff.”

Morgan crinkles her nose. “Daddy! I’m not stupid! You want me to help clean up.”

“And I just know you will help me, because you love me so much.” Morgan is too young to roll her eyes, and hopefully will never turn into a moody teenager who does. She goes back to her breakfast without replying.

*

Sometimes he forgets about it. It’s as simple as that, he leans forwards as if to grab something and then realizes halfway down that his arm is in a sling and useless, dead to feeling and touch. If Tony is totally honest with himself, he hates the burned skin, the raised scars marring his arm. It’s a dead weight he would rather not carry, but there is hope. In the future. Once his arm is fully healed which could take up to a year, he can look into nerve surgery, maybe try to get some sort of function back into his arm. Or he will have to make himself an exoskeleton, like he did for Rhodey. There is many possibilities and all of them entail healing first. It’s a daily reminder of what happened, of what could have happened. Putting on the gauntlet nearly cost him his life. Nearly. A good enough reason for him to hang up his suit and just life his multi-billionaire life away from everyone else. He has a family to think of now, after all.

Instead of using his right hand, Tony switches midway and uses his left to pick up a napkin. Pepper will have to help later with getting the furniture stowed away, but picking up the trash and leftovers is a good start.

“Do you need any help?” Pepper must have finally gotten up, she stands on the veranda watching them.

“Mommy!” Morgan is all smiles when she sees her mother. “I help dad clean!” She waves the plastic bag around that she has filled with used paper plates and cups.

“And what a great help you are.” Pepper comes down the few steps and greets him with a kiss. “Let me take over, you wanted to call May.”

Tony nods, winks at Morgan and hands his trash bag to Pepper.

*

No one sound can be heard from upstairs, Peter seemingly still asleep. Tony sits down in the living room and fiddles with his phone for a moment. May’s number is in his recent contacts, of course it is. He gave her a call on the first evening of Peter’s stay, and another one two days after. Peter used to be on his phone more and actually text his aunt, but those texts have become less after the final battle. Now that he thinks about it, Tony hasn’t seen Peter once with his phone in his hand when he was staying here.

He pushes the call button and waits for May to pick up it. It rings, once, twice and then May’s voice is on the other end.

“Hello? Tony?” May’s voice betrays her immediate worry.

“Morning May. Peter is fine. There is just something I would like to discuss with you.” He can hear her exhale at the end of the line.

“Did something happen?”

“Nope. We had a little party yesterday and I talked to Dr Strange. I believe you met him?”

There is a pause.

“He was at the hospital once. The man with the funny beard?”

“That’s him.”

“Peter said something about him being a wizard. I pushed it on the drugs they were giving him then. . .so what exactly is that man?”

“It’s hard to explain. He used to be a neurosurgeon, had a car accident – it’s not really my place to tell. What he does now is alter dimensions and to get to the point, we had a little talk yesterday. Are you aware that Peter cannot discern what is reality and what is fantasy?”

Another pause on the other end of the line. Tony does in fact not know how much Peter has opened up to his aunt.

“I did not know that.”

“Dr Strange thinks if we can make Peter realizes that this is in fact reality, he might be able to get better quicker.”

“I’m listening.”

So Tony starts to talk about alternate dimensions and different realities, none he would have believed himself a few years ago.


End file.
